


Where You're Meant to Be

by thornfield_girl



Series: Where You're Meant to Be [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alzheimer's Disease, Anger, Betrayal, Bisexuality, Characters Reading Fanfic, Comfort Sex, Double Date, Elections, Father-Son Relationship, Holidays, Jewelry, Moonshine, Multi, Outing, Partisan Hacks, Political Campaigns, Politics, Religion, TV News, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 56,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd left Harlan as a young man, but Raylan stayed, waiting for something that would never happen. When Bowman's death forces Boyd to return, Raylan has to grapple with what his life has become, and the anger and old feelings he still holds for Boyd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: The Return

Raylan pulls his head out from under the hood of his old truck and wipes his hands on a greasy rag. He stretches with his hands on his lower back, breathing deep. He's sweaty, needs a shower, and very much wants a drink. 

He enters his childhood home, washes his hands in the kitchen sink, and rummages in the fridge for sandwich makings. There's hardly any bread left, just the heel and a slightly dried out slice. Fucking Arlo was just at the market the day before. 

The old man's memory has gotten very unreliable lately, and Raylan doesn't even want to think about what will happen if he goes completely off the rails. They've managed to coexist in this house, just the two of them since Frances died, only because of their mutual, unspoken agreement to stay the hell away from each other whenever possible. 

Raylan eats, then showers and puts on clean clothes. He feels like a little company tonight, figures maybe he'll find some at Johnny's. He ain't as young as he used to be, but he still doesn't get turned down hardly ever, local options being what they are. 

He's on his way to the bar, but as he comes up on the little grocery down the other end of the holler, he thinks he ought to stop and pick up a loaf of bread now, while they're still open and he's still sober. Besides, Ava might be working, and he always does like to see her. She always flirts with him as long as Bowman's not around. 

Ava's not there, instead it's old Hugh Barnes, the owner of the shop. Raylan can't remember seeing the old guy working the register since he was in high school, and that's been more than twenty years. 

"Evenin', Raylan," Barnes says. 

"Mr. Barnes, surprised to see you here. Working the counter for old times' sake?"

"You ain't heard, then," Barnes answers. "Ava Crowder's been arrested. Shot her husband at the dinner table. Can't say I blame her, the number of times she's come to work with bruises on her arms, her neck, who the hell knows where else."

Raylan narrows his eyes and nods slowly. He's wanted to kill Bowman Crowder for years. He did beat the shit out of him once, over some contrived bullshit, but really it was because he'd come into the store and seen Ava with her wrist bandaged up tight, and a lot of makeup on her face. She didn't need it, and normally didn't wear it. Raylan didn't have to ask. 

He might have done more, but it's a tricky situation. Bo Crowder has never liked him, but over the years he's grown to appreciate certain of his skills. Bo runs Harlan, so if Raylan wants work, there ain't a whole lot of other options. There's the Crowders, and there's the mine. Both are dangerous, and Raylan sometimes wonders if he's made the right choice. 

He wonders if he should even go to Johnny's tonight. It could be very fucked up over there. He thinks of Ava - of what they might do to her, even in lockup. He thinks of Bowman, and what's going to happen now that he's gone. Raylan has a damned hard time imagining that Bo's going to hand all of Bowman's responsibilities over to Johnny. With Boyd long gone, there's no one else.

 _Boyd._

Raylan scowls and grabs a loaf of bread off a shelf. He pays and says good night to old Hugh, then drives off towards the bar with his head full of things he hates thinking about. Now he feels like he needs that drink.

Boyd left Harlan at 19, first for the Army, then for college in the northeast. Bo always claimed to be proud of him, at least when Bowman was in earshot - he never missed a chance to cut down one of his progeny - but Raylan was pretty sure he'd been wounded by his son's defection. 

Boyd has never been a topic of discussion between Bo Crowder and Raylan. They each have their own reasons for avoiding the subject. Right now, driving towards Johnny Crowder's shitty bar, Boyd is all Raylan can think about. 

Raylan was the one always talking about leaving, back when they were in high school, and later, working in the mine. He was the one who hated Harlan, while Boyd was more ambivalent. 

Boyd didn't tell him he'd signed up until a week before he was to leave. That night... well, that's one of the things Raylan doesn't like to think about. Not because it was bad, but because it was good, and then it was gone. He was gone. 

Raylan grips the steering wheel hard and sighs sharply through his nose. Boyd has stayed away all this time, and Raylan has always assumed that was out of fear of being sucked back in. That's smart, Raylan thinks. That's what he would have done, if he'd left. Boyd will be coming back for the funeral, though. He'll have to. 

Johnny's is hopping when Raylan arrives, some loud, opinionated country music is blasting from the jukebox, and all the tables are filled. He finds a seat at the bar and waits for the girl working behind it to acknowledge him. He's resigned to being ignored by her as long as possible. He fucked her a few months back and didn't call her after. She's very cute, but kind of annoying, and boring in bed. Now she hates him. 

Raylan's not a stupid person, and he'd known better than to get on the bad side of a bartender. His impulses had won out, as they so often do, and screwed him over as happens almost as often. 

Eventually, Johnny notices him sitting there and wanders over. He pours him a double and leans in close enough to be heard. "You're a dumbass, Givens. You don't shit where you eat."

Raylan rolls his eyes and says, "Yeah, yeah. She'll get over it eventually. Or start skimmin' and you'll have to fire her, one or the other. I've outlasted all the other girls you get in here, she ain't no different."

Johnny glances at him, looks around and says, "I guess you heard about Bowman."

"Just now," Raylan replies, nodding and leaving out what he really wants to say, which is "about time." He's not sure where Johnny stands with all that. Bowman was an asshole, and not just to Ava. Still, Raylan ain't family, so he keeps it to himself. 

"Boyd's comin' back for the service, probably staying a bit if anything needs doing." Johnny's looking at Raylan with a steady, neutral gaze, but Raylan ain't fooled. The man knows something, he's just not sure what it is. 

Raylan knows Johnny saw something that night, but not enough to be certain, and that's not the kind of accusation you throw around lightly, not in a place like Harlan. Not about your boss's eldest son, anyway. 

Raylan shrugs and says, "I figured. Be nice to catch up." He holds Johnny's stare for a few seconds, then downs the rest of his bourbon. "I'll take another of those, Johnny, you don't mind."

Johnny pours, then walks away to take care of another customer a few seats away. Raylan sips at his drink and thinks about what it's going to be like to see Boyd after so many years. He knows what the man looks like, of course; he sees him on the TV fairly regular.

These days, Boyd is a Republican Senator from the great red state of Alabama. 

The thought makes Raylan grit his teeth. The first time he heard anything about Boyd on the news was in conjunction with Dobson, that Family Research Council asshole, bigot, motherfucker. 

They were on some panel about how women needed to reclaim their submissive role and the goddamn homosexuals needed to fucking kill themselves or some shit - Raylan is certain that was the basic thrust of their message, if not the one they admitted to.

When he heard the words that were coming out from between Boyd's shiny white teeth, Raylan felt lightheaded. And then he had the urge to put his fist through the goddamn television. How Boyd could bring himself to talk like that, how he could lower himself to that degree, Raylan knew he would never understand. 

Could Boyd really hate himself so much? Raylan doesn't think so. He doesn't think Boyd minds at all about who or what he is. So at least there's that; Raylan doesn't need to pity him. He can just be really fucking pissed. 

Raylan looks around the bar and is suddenly filled with something like despair. Sometimes that happens. There are no women here he has any desire for. No men either, not that it's relevant in this place. But it's not just that, it's everything. It's Arlo. It's Bo Crowder. It's Harlan. And it's way too goddamn late.

He drives home slowly, letting the summer night air in through his open window, thinking about other nights that felt like this, smelled like this, in what truly seems like another lifetime. He really wishes he could stop thinking about Boyd, but it looks like tonight is going to be a trip down memory lane, no matter what he does. 

At home, Arlo is slumped in front of the television, muttering to himself as he flips through the channels. He doesn't look up as Raylan passes by. Raylan pauses just past the entrance to the room, wondering if there's someone he should do or say, but he can't think of anything. He grabs a glass from the kitchen and heads up the stairs. He doesn't leave his whiskey where his father can find it. 

Raylan pulls his bottle of Wild Turkey out of the back of his closet and pours a very generous glass to take to bed with him. He tries to read, but can't concentrate at all. He puts on the radio, tuned to public radio as it almost always is, and listens to sane, rational people talk for awhile.

He never made the decision to stay. He never wanted to. He just allowed himself to be pulled under by the tide of apathy and anger that characterized his emotional life after Boyd revealed himself and then vanished from his existence. Not that he can blame Boyd for his own stupid, short-sighted choices. 

He blames Boyd for other things, though. Boyd Crowder has a lot to answer for, in Raylan's opinion. 

He falls asleep to the sound of calm voices, and memories of sweet kisses and desperate clutches, of strong, calloused fingers and sharp teeth. 

The following day, Raylan calls around to the Crowder home to pay his respects. It pains him, almost physically, but he knows that a man in his position has certain unpleasant duties, and this is one of them. 

The big man is sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch when Raylan arrives. He barely glances up, just glowers into his drink. 

Raylan walks up to him and says, "Bo, I just come to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Bowman. I'm sure there ain't no pain equal to losing a child. Let me know if there's anything I can do." 

Raylan says these words because it's what you say, not because he means it. Bo, however, looks up at him sharply. "Well, Givens, I am surely glad to hear you say so. I just may have something for you in the days to come. I'll be in touch."

"Alright, Bo," he replies, but he doesn't like the sound of it. He nods and turns to take his leave when the front door opens. He looks over to see a slim, dark man with an expensive shirt and a very familiar face, leaning in the doorway. 

For a second, Raylan forgets who Boyd is now. Raylan has seen him coming out of this house more times than he can count, and he starts to smile. He catches himself, though, and walks over with a hand extended. 

Boyd takes his hand in cool, strong fingers, and grips it while looking straight into Raylan's eyes. "It's so good to see you, Raylan," he says, and Raylan believes him. "I want to catch up, later. After the funeral, alright? I couldn't leave without having a chance to do that."

Raylan sighs, but nods. "Sure thing, Boyd. I'm sure we got plenty to talk about."

"I'll walk you down to your car." Boyd follows him down to where he parked the truck. 

Raylan reaches for the door handle, but Boyd puts his hand on the door. "Listen, Raylan. I heard what my father said just then. I'm not sure exactly what it is you generally do for him, but you should know we've received the news that the Sheriff's office is declining to press charges against Ava. She's claiming self defense, and I guess they believe her."

It feels like an anvil drops into Raylan's stomach. Apparently it shows on his face, because Boyd frowns in concern. "Alright, Boyd," Raylan says. "Appreciate the information. I'll handle it." He has no idea how he's going to do that. 

"Raylan..." Boyd began, then hesitated. "What do _you_ believe?"

Raylan's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked back at Boyd. He glances at the house, then back at Boyd. He hasn't seen this man in twenty years. 

They once had some kind of muddled, largely unexpressed feelings for one another, but that's long over. Now Boyd goes on television and spews hate about the very things he once whispered into Raylan's teenaged ear. 

Aside from all that, the fact remains that Raylan is still a Givens, and Boyd is still a Crowder. There was a time when that might have been overlooked by both of them, but things have changed. 

Raylan says nothing. Boyd, absurdly, looks hurt. He says, "Raylan, you can speak your mind, you know that. It's me."

"It's you?" Raylan smiles as if in wonder. "And just who is that, Boyd? Who am I talking to right this minute, Senator Crowder?"

Boyd makes a rueful grin that Raylan is almost one hundred percent sure is bullshit, and says, "I heard you weren't too fond of my political leanings."

"Oh? Who'd you hear that from, Rush Limbaugh?"

"That doesn't even make sense, Raylan. Johnny told me, matter of fact. I asked him about you, and he said you're the token liberal in Harlan and they tolerate your eccentricities because you're damn good with a gun."

"I speak my mind," Raylan growls, "and what do you do? You speechify and pass bills that condemn people for only doing what you wanted to do, once upon a time."

Boyd sighs softly and looks down at the dirt. "Let's save it, alright? You can vilify me all you like tomorrow night. You can... well, you can do whatever you like to me then, Raylan. Nothing has really changed, you know. I'm the same man I was."

"Well," Raylan returns, filling his voice with as much contempt as he can muster, "I ain't."

Is that true? Raylan thinks of this for the rest of the day. Is he different? Has he changed? He thinks so, but he's not at all sure it's for the better. The man he was then could see all the good in Boyd Crowder, but the man he is now just looks at him and all he sees is red. 

He sees the man's opportunism and cruelty, his alienation from his true nature - and by that, Raylan isn't thinking only of his sexual leanings, whatever they may be in specific terms, but also his moral compass, his intellectual honesty. Boyd may have left Harlan, but Harlan seems more fully entrenched in his mind than it was before he left.

Raylan returns to a house full of bad feelings and ugly memories, and a father who inspires in him no more than a tired disgust and the occasional pang of pity. 

Arlo is sitting outside on the steps when Raylan approaches the house. He looks up as Raylan's shadow moves over him and says, "Where you been, boy?"

"At the Crowders', payin' respects. Just like maybe you should be."

"Respects? What for?"

"On account of the man's son bein' killed, Arlo," Raylan answers, frowning. "What's wrong with you?" 

"His son?" A confused look glazes over the old man's face. "You mean that skinny little faggot you used to love to hang around so much?" Arlo's voice, never more than inches from mean, moves all the way there. "Don't think I didn't notice how sad you was when your little boyfriend wasn't around no more for you to rub up on." He cackles, which turns into a wet cough, and he spits on the grass. "He dead now?"

Raylan stares at him, wondering how much of that is intuition, and how much just plain assholery, searching for a way to wound. Also, what the fuck? He'd told Arlo about Bowman, they'd had the conversation less than an hour before he went over there. 

"Bowman's dead, Arlo. Remember? Ava shot him. Boyd ain't dead, and you ain't about to get me riled up by calling him my boyfriend. I don't give a shit what you think about that, but you best watch it, for your own sake. Can't imagine Bo would take too kindly to that shit." 

Raylan brushes past and into the house, only now reacting to the several disturbing things that just happened. 

First of all, Arlo is clearly losing it. He's gonna have to take the old man into the VA doctor and see what's what. 

Second, Arlo knows or thinks he knows enough to accuse him of fooling around with Boyd when they were kids. 

Third, Raylan just now declined to deny it. Out of the three, that's the one that's fucking with him the most, and he's fairly sure - now that he's taken a goddamn breath - that it was in reaction to Boyd's outspoken bigotry on the subject. 

It's in his head, now that he's seen Boyd, and heard from the man's own mouth that he'd be up for something tomorrow night - in so many words, almost. As if Raylan would go near his fucked up, self-loathing, opportunistic ass. 

He won't do that. He can't. 

Raylan goes to the funeral, of course. He has to. He listens to people tell lies about Bowman, about what a fine man he was, what a sweet boy he once was. Bowman was an asshole and a bully, for as long as Raylan can remember him. 

Bo catches his eye as he's exiting the church, holds up a finger for him to hang back. Raylan's heart speeds up a little. He hasn't figured out how to respond to this yet. He leans up against the side of the little church until Bo can pull himself away. He walks around to the back, and Raylan follows. 

"Givens," he says without preamble, "you may or may not have heard that Ava has been released without charges after gunning down my son in cold blood."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Raylan responds carefully. 

"I'm just as glad, truth be told. The law wasn't never going to give her the kind of justice she deserves. Just as well they leave it to me."

Raylan feel sick. He knows what's coming, and he has a crazy urge to just walk away before he has to hear it. 

Bo continues, "We're having people back to the house now. Food and drink. The Sheriff is invited, along with many others. You are certainly more than welcome to join us, son, after you take care of a small item of business for me. Compensation will follow." He stops and looks intently into Raylan's face. "You hearing me, Givens?"

Raylan nods. He feels utterly trapped. Bo walks away, and Raylan stands there, leaning against the building, trying to stay calm. Then he gets into his truck and drives to Ava Crowder's house. 

As he exits his vehicle, she opens the door with a shotgun raised at his chest. He raises his hands to shoulder height, but keeps walking forward slowly. "Ava," he says in a calm voice, "I ain't gonna do nothing to you."

She doesn't lower the weapon or change her expression, which is slightly fearful, but mostly just very pissed off. "Raylan Givens, you need to get the hell off my property. I know who you're working for."

"Me and half the county, Ava. I'm telling you, I ain't gonna hurt you. He sent me here to do just that, but I won't. You know that. You know me, honey. Come on, now." He never stopped walking, and he's close, almost close enough to grab the gun. He knows she won't shoot him now. 

She lowers it, and as he reaches her, she starts crying and holding on to him. He pats her back, and she looks up, suddenly, face wet with tears. He looks down into her pretty blue eyes, then she gets up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss right on his mouth. 

"Jesus Christ, Ava," he says, his eyes wide. "Get inside."

He follows her in and they sit at her kitchen table. She's looking at him with a small, strange smile on her face. She says, "I have wanted to do that since I was fourteen."

"Well, nice as it was, you can't do it again. You hear? That's the last thing either one of us needs. You gotta pack a bag and get the hell out of here. I need to be able to say I didn't find you here."

She crosses her arms and says, "I ain't going anywhere. This here's my home. I got nowhere else to go, anyway."

"Ava-"

"I mean it, Raylan. If you need me to shoot you so you can prove you tried, I'm more than happy to do that. But if all you came here for was to tell me to get out, you wasted a trip."

Raylan grinds his teeth and stares at her. She's being stubborn as hell, but at the same time, he understands. Where would she go? She's a Harlan woman, born and raised, and it's all she knows. If Raylan had to leave suddenly, what would he do? 

"I don't know how to protect you, Ava. When Bo realizes I'm not going to do it, he'll just set someone else on you."

She nods and gives him a humorless smile. "Well, maybe I'll kiss them too."

He huffs in response. "I'm gonna go now, but I'll be back. I need to figure out what to do, try to buy some time. Don't leave, don't let anyone in, and keep that shotgun handy." He gets up to leave.

"You seen Boyd yet?" she asks. 

Raylan pauses. "Yeah, briefly," he returns. "Why?"

She shrugs. "Just wondered. Figured you'd want to see him, if only to give him some shit about his votin' record." She's grinning a little now. 

"We were supposed to get together tonight, but I'm thinkin' that might not happen now," he replies. 

Ava frowns like she's going to ask him something, but she waves it off. 

He heads out to the Crowder home. Boyd intercepts him as he's walking in from the long driveway. He speaks in low, worried tones. "What happened, Raylan?"

"What do you mean? You asking if I killed your sister-in-law?" Raylan answers in a tight, angry voice. 

"No." Boyd's face is tense. "I know better than that."

"You don't know shit, Boyd. Quit acting like things are the way they were. Nothing's the same." He pushes past and goes to find Bo. The man is surrounded by people, and Raylan gets himself a drink whe he waits on the periphery. 

After the others scatter, Raylan stands close enough to speak with some privacy. He can see Boyd out of the corner of his eye, watching. He tells Bo a story of Ava coming out blasting warning shots, and outlines a plan to come back for her later on. He knows Bo doesn't want to hear details about it, he only wants to feel assured. Raylan has never failed him before. In his mind, there ought to be no difference with this. 

Raylan shoots Boyd a hard look as he leaves, and Boyd stares back just the same. He drives back to Ava's place, where she's frying up a batch of chicken. He sits in her kitchen and drinks a beer that she hands him. He's wound up tight inside, like he's going to have to fight or run at any second. But he knows it'll have to be fight, if it comes to that, because of Ava. 

He feels responsible for her now, maybe has for a long time, since she first married into the Crowder clan and started showing up with bruises on a face that still looked like a young girl's. It doesn't, not anymore. She's still lovely, but she's a grown up Harlan woman now, and no mistake. 

Working for Bo, even on the irregular basis that Raylan does, has always made him feel complicit in all of their wrongdoings, even those of a personal nature like Bowman and Ava's marriage, as if he was giving tacit approval to it every time Bowman beat her. It ate at him every time he saw her, whether she had any fresh marks or not. Raylan feels shamed by her finally killing him, because he thinks he should have been the one to do it. 

It's nice, though, watching her cook. She looks so natural at the stove, and for a second he thinks about Boyd and his religious buddies, with their ideas about the place of women in the world. That shit don't really play in Harlan, but one thing is for sure, these ladies know how to cook. 

She's smiling back at him, and he's telling her jokes, trying to act like everything is normal instead of completely fucked. He's acting like he's on a damn date, he realizes, and then she says, "So, twenty years goes by and you don't see Boyd, and now he's back in town and you ain't even gonna get a chance to catch up?"

Raylan shrugs, even though the thought does bother him. He says, "It ain't like either of us disappeared into thin air, Ava. We wanted to catch up so bad, we could done it any time. Maybe there ain't no point to it."

She's looking at him with a funny combination of emotions on her face. She looks sad and curious, and strangely embarrassed. As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, Raylan guesses what she's about to ask. 

"Raylan..." she begins, then pauses as she starts taking chicken out of the pan to drain. 

"Just spit it out, Ava. Whatever it is you want to know, I'll tell you, but I ain't gonna say it until you ask me."

She opens the oven to take out some biscuits, and looks back at him over her shoulder. She's blushing, which is sort of charming, but he hopes she can get it together. He's not sure he even wants to do this, but he's already committed to a course of action. He doesn't want to have to hold her hand through it as well. 

"Only, it's just that Johnny said something to me once, a few years ago. We were at a Christmas thing at Bo's house, and he was drinking."

Raylan frowns deeply and says, "Johnny was drinking at _Bo Crowder's house_ and talking about me and Boyd?"

"It was just me and him in the kitchen, Raylan, don't worry. Believe me, if Bo had got wind of this, you'd know it."

Raylan lets his eyes drift shut and takes a deep breath, then opens them and says, "What did Johnny tell you?"

"He said he... He said, one time, that he saw... _thought_ he saw... you and Boyd kissing in your truck, three days before he left. But he wasn't sure. First he thought he must have been wrong, but he said he kept thinking about it, and he couldn't think of any other explanation."

"Is that all?" Raylan asks wryly.

Ava scoffs at him and says, "Well, that's all Johnny said. He seemed to assume there was more to it, but he felt lucky he didn't have to witness it." She rinses her hands at the sink and is drying them off when she tilts her head at him and says, "I don't know. Personally, I might've liked to see that. Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder at nineteen years old, my goodness. Can't think of a prettier picture than that."

Raylan's eyebrows shoot up about an inch. "Is that so?" he asks, trying for cool and amused.

"It is."

"Well, I ain't so sure about all that. We were just a couple of dumbass kids who didn't know what the hell we were doing with anything, much less each other. It was only the one time, anyway. It was... probably a long time coming. We got stuck in a stalemate. He finally broke it, I was too chicken."

Ava laughs and says, "You sound like you still don't know much, if you can't hear how hot that sounds."

Raylan's mouth pulls up in a skeptical smirk, and then he sighs. "Anyways. Now I've basically turned into Arlo, working for the Crowders and scrapin' by, and Boyd's a goddamn walking cliché. So there ain't too much about us that looks real pretty anymore."

Ava sets the plates of chicken and biscuits on the table and walks over to him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and leans down so their faces are level, and looks him in the eye. She says, "Listen here, Raylan. You ain't Arlo. You're nothing like him, and I don't ever want to hear you sayin' that you are." She kisses him then, gently, on the forehead, then sits down in the chair to the left of him. 

They eat awhile in companionable silence, then she says, "As for Boyd, I know it must feel bad to you, to hear the things he says. You know he's just saying whatever he thinks he needs to say, to get where he wants to be."

"That makes it worse, not better."

She nods thoughtfully, then asks, "Did you love him?"

Raylan pulls his head back a little and looks away from her. Finally, he says, "I really don't know. There wasn't enough time to start thinking of it like that. All I knew was I missed him when he was gone."

When they've finished supper and cleaned up, Ava walks in real close and puts a hand on Raylan's chest. "I'm going up to bed now, Raylan," she says softly. "I got room for you, to sleep, or whatever else you might get in your head to do."

Raylan puts his hand to the side of her head and smooths down the hair there, stroking it lightly. "I can't say I ain't tempted, Ava. But this ain't the time. You know that. I need to figure out what the hell to do about this mess. I'm gonna do that, I promise. You should never have had to do what you did. I'm sorry I let it come to that."

Ava's shaking her head like he's not making any sense. "Honey, you ain't responsible for what Bowman did to me. There's nothing you coulda done. That business was between me and him. That's how it always is, Raylan. No one else can make it stop. Tell me you know that."

Raylan nods, but he can tell she doesn't believe him. She shouldn't, because they both know better. There were things he could have done. He never did, and he has to live with that.

She shows him where the guest room is and makes sure he has enough blankets, and she's yawning already as she walks down the hall to her own room. 

Raylan's not nearly ready to sleep yet, so he pours himself a drink and takes it out front, along with the rest of the bottle and the shotgun. He sits on the front porch steps and drinks slowly, trying unsuccessfully not to think of anything related to any of the goddamn Crowders. 

He's still sitting there forty-five minutes later when he sees headlights coming up the drive. He grabs the gun and readies himself as the car slows to a stop. He raises it as he hears footsteps in the gravel, and then he hears the words, "You gonna shoot me so soon after we've become reacquainted, Raylan?"

Raylan does not lower the shotgun right away. He barks, "You alone, Boyd?" 

"Of course I am, Raylan," he answers. "Here, you want me to prove it? You got a spot on your neck that made you shiver when I touched it with my tongue. I must have done it ten times that night, because I loved it so much. Does it still do that?"

Raylan leaned the shotgun against the wall and the porch swing, then walks down to meet Boyd in the yard. Boyd is standing at the bottom of the steps, cool as you please with his hands in his pockets, the shirtsleeves of his expensive white dress shirt rolled up. He's looking up as Raylan comes toward him, the expression on his face not quite a smile, but it wants to be. 

Raylan is not smiling, nor does he want to. He's worried, thinks there's a good chance he'll have to kill one or more men in the upcoming days, and the last thing he feels like hearing are glib comments from Senator Boyd fucking Crowder about that one time they were together. 

"Why are you here?" Raylan asks in a flat, unwelcoming voice.

"Figured you would be," he returns. "We were supposed to make plans, remember?"

"Sure, I remember." Raylan is on the ground with him now, facing him with arms folded in front. "Ran into a slight hitch when your daddy sent me to kill an abused woman."

Boyd winces slightly at that, but then his expression hardens, and he says, "Is that supposed to be somehow my fault, Raylan? You're the one working for him, not me. You're the one he thinks is capable of doing such a thing. Now, why would he think that?"

There's no answer Raylan can give to that. He knows Boyd is right. He's so angry with Boyd for other reasons that he can't bring himself to concede anything, so he just scowls at him and grinds his teeth. 

Boyd looks down, then tries again. "I really just wanted to see you. To talk to you. It's been so long, and I've missed you so very much. I think about you often. Could we just sit for a minute? Please."

After a few seconds' pause, Raylan sits down on the top step. He pours some more bourbon into his glass, takes a sip and hands it to Boyd after he sits down beside him. 

Boyd looks at him in mild surprise and says, "Thanks."

"Well, don't thank me yet, Senator. You want to be careful, you could catch the gay."

Boyd sighs and says, "Didn't think you were. I heard you been cutting a swath through Johnny's bar staff." He takes a sip and hands the glass back to Raylan. 

Raylan snorts and replies, "Well, I don't think we need to be splitting hairs about it, do we? I doubt anyone else around here would appreciate the distinction."

Boyd nods slowly and stares out into the dark yard, and the trees beyond. "My wife didn't."

"Heard about the divorce. Is that what it was about? What happened, she go through your Internet history? She catch you trawling Craigslist or something?" Raylan manages to stop just short of cracking a joke about foot-tapping and wide stances, but he's holding it in reserve in case Boyd says something else to piss him off. 

They're handing the glass back and forth as they talk, and Raylan realizes belatedly that Boyd probably takes it as a peace offering, as forgiveness. In reality, Raylan just hadn't felt like going back in for another glass.

"Nothing like that," Boyd answers, in a tone that clearly indicates that Raylan should know better. "I am a man of great self-control, Raylan. I'm not gonna end up letting some teenaged rent boy destroy everything I've worked for. No, it was nothing but a misguided attempt at honesty, if you can believe that."

Raylan's looking at him and wondering if he's being truthful. It strikes him as highly fucking dubious that he would have just come out and told his lacquered, bottle blonde, red-suited wife that he sometimes has a hankering for boys. 

"Why?" he asks. "Why'd you bother telling her if you weren't planning to do anything about it?"

Boyd shrugs, and smiles at Raylan. "I've asked myself that many times. My lawyer also asked me that, when he was drawing up the exceptionally generous divorce settlement. I've never reached a satisfactory conclusion, though I do have a sort of working theory."

Raylan lifts the bottle and Boyd holds the glass out for a refill. "Okay," Raylan says, "Let's hear it."

Boyd tilts his head at him and asks, "I thought you despised me. Why should you care why I broke up my marriage?"

Raylan doesn't answer, just leans back on his hands and waits. Eventually, Boyd takes a drink and hunches forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands holding the glass of whiskey loosely between them. 

"Alright. Well, it was something that had come to occupy a great deal of my thoughts. We'd been together almost twelve years, and I had never once been unfaithful, or even come close. And I wasn't going to. But I thought, if I could just talk about it, maybe it would take some of the pressure off me. If it didn't have to be a secret, as well as something I was denying myself, I could handle it."

Raylan leans forward so he can look at Boyd's face. Boyd turns toward him, still hunched over, and for the first time in a very long time, Raylan starts to feel a small amount of sympathy for him. It's stupid, he knows; Boyd put himself in this untenable position. He can't help it, though, the feeling is there. 

"I know what you mean. I've felt that way from time to time. Only for me, that usually means a trip out of town."

Boyd smiles down at his feet and holds the glass out for Raylan to take. "That's not an option for me. Not normally." He looks up at Raylan with an unusually open expression on his face, full of too much need, too much desire. 

Raylan shakes his head. "I can't, Boyd. I'm sorry. It's... You're... I just can't."

Boyd looks away again and nods. "So you go pick up men out of town, huh? You do that a lot?"

"Not as much as I'd prefer to."

"I want you to know that I understand your anger towards me, Raylan. I'm sure it's hard to understand, from your perspective."

Raylan's head whips in his direction, and there's a snarl in his voice as he says, "I understand it just fine. You think I'm a goddamn idiot? You're no different than you ever were. A liar, and a hypocrite." 

His anger is boiling up and over now, everything is spilling out, all of his anger and a well of hurt that feels bottomless. 

"Did you really think you could come here and get something off of me? You must really have a low opinion of me. I'd rather fuck a hundred strangers than lay one goddamn finger on you."

He gets up and walks toward the door, leaving the bottle and glass, but picking up the shotgun. He goes inside, locking the door behind him.

Raylan goes to bed, even though he's nearly certain he won't sleep. His mind cycles over and over the events of the past few days, and eventually wears itself out. He drifts off at some point, only to be awoken a short time - or what seems like a short time - later, by shouts coming from the front of the house. _Fuck._

He grabs the gun from beside the bed and runs downstairs, barefoot but still in the clothes that he didn't bother taking off in case of just this eventuality. 

He hears Boyd's voice just before the crack of a gun, but has no time to wonder about what the fuck he's still doing there. He opens the door, shotgun held high, and he sees two men whose faces he can't quite make out, but he quite clearly identifies the glocks they're aiming at him and Boyd. Boyd has a weapon of his own, which is something that hadn't even occurred to Raylan. 

Boyd speaks softly, not moving his eyes from the two shitkickers in the grass. "It's alright, no one's hit. Seems I'm out of practice."

"Givens? What the fuck!" Raylan recognizes that voice, it's dumb-as-fuck Dewey Crowe. That makes it likely that his partner is the slightly less stupid, but aptly named Devil. Raylan almost rolls his eyes. It's hard to get good henchman these days, apparently. 

"We can discuss what the fuck later," Raylan growls. "Right now, you two assholes need to get the fuck off this property. You don't need to be here."

"'Less you already done took care of her in there, we do. Bo sent us. Thought you might be a little sentimental about the lady."

Boyd says, "Well, you can go on back and tell my daddy that Raylan has things well in hand. I already checked up on the situation. Alright? Ain't no reason to be holding weapons on us."

Dewey shakes his big square head and says, "Now, Boyd, he didn't say nothing to us about you bein' here, and you shot at us first."

"Only because you had your guns out and were advancing on me, Dewey. I don't want trouble, believe me." 

He's speaking in a very low, soothing voice, and Raylan can tell that Dewey is starting to believe him, but Devil says, "This ain't right, not at all. Givens in there sleeping and Boyd sitting out on the porch? He was keeping watch, that's what he was doing. They used to be good buddies, I hear. Something's going on that ain't right."

Raylan senses more than sees Devil make a motion to shoot. Raylan fires the shotgun, but not in time to stop the bullet that flies from the end of the boy's 9mm. Devil is thrown backwards, and Raylan knows Boyd is down, but he has to deal with Dewey Crowe first. 

The lights go on in the living room behind him. He cocks the shotgun and aims at Dewey, but the boy is already taking off across the lawn. 

Raylan kneels down beside Boyd, and calls out to Ava, who he knows is waiting for the all clear. He yells at her to call an ambulance, call 911. 

Minutes later, she comes out onto the porch and stands beside him, hand to her mouth as she watches Raylan hold Boyd's hand, tell him to hang on, tell him it's alright and he ain't angry anymore. He tells him he understands, and it's going to be fine. She watches him lean down and say something into his ear, and brush back the hair from his forehead. 

She's crying, and so is Raylan, and they stay like that until the ambulance comes, finally, and takes Boyd away.


	2. Chapter Two: Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd survives the shooting, and the aftermath had wide-ranging consequences.

The Sheriff arrives just behind the ambulance, and Hunter Mosley, that asshole, stands and watches the paramedics work to stabilize Boyd. Devil was dead before they got there. Mosley also seems to give a lot of scrutiny to the tear-streaked faces of Ava and Raylan, though he wisely keeps his mouth shut for the moment.

After the ambulance is gone, he turns to Raylan and says, "You got a lot of explaining to do, Givens. We're all gonna go down to the station and talk about it."

There's no sense in arguing about it, so Raylan goes to get his shoes from by the door, and Ava goes upstairs to get dressed. Mosely keeps his eyes trained on Raylan while they wait. 

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asks.

"I thought you wanted to talk at the station, Mosley," Raylan replies.

The Sheriff leers a little and says, "How long you two been fucking? Maybe we need to reexamine the evidence on her husband's death."

Raylan's face contracts into a mask of unexpressed rage, and he glares at the man. "We ain't. We never have, and you know goddamn well what that woman has been through. And now, she's had to watch a man get gunned down who was only trying to protect her. So help me, asshole-"

"You best watch your mouth, son. You're talkin' to the law."

"Fuck you, _Hunter,_ " Raylan says with all the contempt he can muster, which is a lot. He and Mosley are the same age, played ball together in high school, and they have never liked each other. Raylan working for the Crowders has not helped matters in the least, but he's not about to stand here on a night like this and let Hunter Mosley call him _son._

"So that's your story, is it? Crowder was here keeping vigil over you and her while you slept innocently in separate beds? What the fuck happened here, Givens?"

"At the station, Mosley," Raylan says as Ava comes down the stairs in jeans and a flannel shirt that looks like it belonged to Bowman.

It takes hours to get their statements down, both of them being interviewed separately and questioned endlessly. Raylan knows he doesn't have to worry about Ava giving anything away, so when he tells Mosley that he came over simply because he was concerned, he feels confident she's saying the same thing. 

As for Boyd's presence, Ava knows nothing, and Raylan sticks very close to the truth. Mosley knows they're old friends, they had been through much of high school, and Raylan just said he'd come by to catch up, and they'd had a lot to drink, so Boyd probably wanted to wait awhile before driving. 

When Mosley asks why, if Raylan suspected that Bo Crowder was out for revenge, he didn't simply go to the police, Raylan just stares silently at him. 

All the available deputies are out searching for Dewey Crowe. Raylan is waiting for Mosley to finish up with Ava so they can get the hell out of there. He's going to take her to Helen's for the foreseeable future, and who knows, maybe she'll have some ideas, because Christ knows he's out of them at this point. 

Helen doesn't look too pleased to see him when she answers the door. Then again, she never does these days. She purses her lips and asks what he's doing there. He steps aside so she can see Ava, who's hanging back a little, and her expression softens slightly. 

"Can we come in, Helen?" Raylan asks quietly. She nods and opens the door wider. 

They sit at her kitchen table, drinking her shine, and tell her what happened. Mostly Raylan talks, though Ava has a few things to add as well. 

Helen looks hard at him when it's finished, and says, "He gonna make it?" 

Raylan starts to answer that he doesn't know, and finds he can't get the words out. To his horror, he feels more tears stinging the backs of his eyes, and he blinks them back. She just nods like he's confirmed something she didn't quite ask.

"So now Bo's gonna be after the both of you. And maybe Boyd too, Jesus Christ. What are you gonna do, Raylan?" 

Helen looks pissed, and Raylan knows why. The first time, years and years ago now, he took a job for Bo Crowder, she told him she felt like she didn't know him anymore. She said it felt like a slap in the face, after the offer she'd made to him. He hadn't been able to explain why he couldn't take it, and he doesn't really understand it himself anymore. 

Raylan feels very tired, and suddenly very old, older even than he is, which is old enough. He feels like his whole life passed him by, and he didn't even see it go. 

"I don't rightly know, Helen," he says, and he hears Arlo in his voice, peevish and cornered. "Was hopin' you might have some thoughts on the matter."

She lights a cigarette and blows smoke to the ceiling. Under different circumstances, Raylan might have grumbled about it being 2009, and maybe she could step outside to do that, but not tonight. Tonight he needs her help. 

"Alright, Raylan. You say they're out lookin' for that half-wit Crowe?" Raylan nods, and she continues. "Well, they'll find him, of that I have no doubt. You know him a little, so what do you think? Will he flip on Bo?"

Raylan has thought about this question for hours, and still isn't sure. "Dewey's loyal," he says, "and scared of Bo. But he's also stupid enough to maybe believe whatever bullshit the cops sling at him. I can't imagine it's gonna stay with just the Sherrif's office, either, not with Boyd bein' who he is now." 

His mouth twists in the little involuntary grimace it always does when he thinks about who Boyd is now. Helen gives him a look, and he keeps talking. "Anyway, my point is, yeah. I think he will. Eventually. But I don't know if that'll stick, you know, without anything else. Devil's dead. The only other people who could offer corroboration are me and Boyd, if... Anyways, that's gotta be a last resort. And if Bo does go away for this, where does that leave us? It ain't like he can't reach out from prison."

Helen's shaking her head. "I don't think so, Raylan. Not with Bowman gone. That really only leaves Johnny, as far as family, and as far as people he trusted with inside stuff. People he had dealings with, they won't want to help him, he'll be too weak. Nothing in it for them, and an unstable situation."

"But Johnny-"

"Raylan, think. This is Johnny Crowder you're talking about." She looks at Ava, who gives her a crooked smile, but Raylan doesn't understand what she's trying to say. He shrugs and looks a question at her. 

"Raylan, Johnny don't have that shit in him. His daddy wasn't hard like Bo is, and Johnny ain't either. And besides that, Boyd is involved. They were close, don't you remember?"

Raylan frowns, thinks about it. He only ever started hanging out with Boyd because of Johnny, back when Raylan played baseball with him in high school. Boyd would come to the games, hang around at the parties. Boyd and Johnny were good friends, Raylan had forgotten that. After high school, after they started up at the mine, Boyd didn't seem to see as much of him. He must not have, because Boyd and Raylan were always... oh. 

"Yeah, alright. Maybe he wouldn't do nothing to Boyd, if he makes it." Raylan's stomach gives a lurch, but he presses on. "But that don't mean he wouldn't come after Ava. Or me."

Helen's staring at him like he's an idiot, and Ava snorts in a very unladylike fashion. "What?" he says, and they both roll their eyes. 

"Raylan," Ava says patiently. "Johnny ain't gonna hurt you, because he won't want to hurt Boyd. And also, because he likes you."

"What are you talking about, Ava? Johnny don't give a shit about me." Raylan is truly perplexed. 

"Raylan, remember that thing I was telling you about before?" 

Raylan's eyes go wide, because he surely doesn't want her repeating that in front of Helen. He nods quickly, but shoots her a warning look. 

"Well, Johnny got it in his head, somehow - and I have _absolutely no idea why he would think this_ \- that you were kinda sad when Boyd left. So he felt bad for you."

Raylan just blinks at her, and Helen actually laughs out loud. "Boy, you weren't always so slow. And you never were a good actor." She shakes her head at him in something like affection, but mostly like exasperation. "You just gotta hold 'em off 'til Bo's behind bars. Or, you could kill him, I suppose. You can stay here, if you want. I'll go stay with your daddy." 

Raylan looks at her sharply, and she gives him a look like she's daring him to judge. He'd warned her off Arlo a long time ago, couldn't take watching his father destroy another woman he loved. She said she knew what Arlo was, and she could handle it, but he didn't budge. He just told her no until she gave up. 

Now, Arlo's probably too old and weak to do much, not to a woman like Helen, anyway. And maybe she'll take care of him; Raylan hates himself all the more for that thought, but there it is. Him in a nutshell. 

Things play out over the next several days, much in the way Helen suggested they might. Dewey gives it up fast; turns out he's more scared of prison than he is Bo, and he gets a deal. 

They follow Boyd's health status on the news, mostly. Raylan doesn't want to ask anyone in the Crowder organization, doesn't want to call attention to himself or Ava, at all. Not until he knows for sure that nothing's coming their way. 

They stay at Helen's and they don't fuck, much as they both might have enjoyed it. Raylan is still thinking of what Hunter Mosley said to him about her case, and he tells her as much. She tells him he's being ridiculous, but she doesn't push it. 

It's almost a week before Boyd is stable enough for visitors. Raylan only finds out because Johnny tells him, which is surprising and almost touching. Whatever Helen might say, he thinks it's mainly that Johnny has no idea where he, himself, stands, and Raylan is a familiar, generally reliable face. 

The woman at the main reception desk won't tell him what floor Boyd is on, so he calls Johnny to find out. As he exits the elevator, he notices two people standing outside a room. A small, pretty black woman and a boyish looking white man with wavy hair, obviously federals, but they look too dressed down for FBI. Marshal service, maybe. 

He approaches them, and the man steps directly in front of the door. "Something I can do for you, sir?" he asks in the politely disrespectful way that cops are so practiced in. 

Raylan's from Harlan, though, and he's no stranger to this game. "Well, officer," he says, fully aware that this will piss the man off, "I'm here to visit my friend Boyd." 

"It's Deputy U.S. Marshal," he starts, and Raylan pushes down a triumphant grin, "and the Senator isn't expecting any visitors." 

"He'll want to see me," Raylan says, putting his hands to his hips and rearing back a little. The Marshal, a shorter man than Raylan, puffs up slightly, and Raylan thinks he's a little bit cute. 

"What's your name?" 

"I'm Raylan Givens," he says, giving the name it's full hillbilly due. 

"What's your relationship to Senator Crowder?" 

Raylan smirks, thinking of all the possible ways he could answer that question, but in the end he just says, "We're old friends. You know, from the old days." 

"I have to say, considering where he's from, that's not necessarily reassuring." 

Raylan raises his eyebrows and makes himself look affronted. Seriously, who is this asshole to be talking about Harlan? Even though Raylan himself hates it here well more than half the time, he's allowed. He fucking lives here. 

"Now look here," he begins, but he is cut off by the female marshal stepping in between them. 

"Why don't I just go in and ask Senator Crowder if he knows the man, and wishes to see him. Tim, you could search him for weapons while I do that. Right?" She gives him a bright smile that is also a message, and it ain't too hard to read. 

"Right," he says, giving her a little wave. He took that better than a lot of men would, Raylan had to give him credit for that. He probably wouldn't vote for Boyd. 

Deputy Marshal Tim is in the middle of patting him down when the other Marshal comes out of the room with a tiny smile and wide eyes. "He says to let him in. He says this guy was his first boyfriend." 

The Marshal quickly finishes the search, and Raylan gazes at him with a very slight - almost undetectable, really - appraising expression on his face and says, "Anywhere else you'd like to check?" 

The Marshal doesn't answer, just stands aside so he can enter the room. Although Raylan has to admit it was sort of fun freaking out the Fed, he's actually pretty pissed at Boyd for telling her that. He has every intention of unloading on him about it, but when he sees him lying in the hospital bed, chest all bandaged up, weak and pale, he forgets all about it. 

Raylan walks around to the side of the bed, frowning, and Boyd gives him a tired smile. "Hey, Raylan," he says, and he sounds better than he looks. His voice sounds strong and warm, and Raylan lets out a long breath. 

"Hey there, Boyd. How you feeling?" 

"According to your face, I must be dying. But I feel good. Chest hurts, that's all." 

Raylan did his best to rearrange his face into a less worried configuration. "Sorry. I'm just glad you're alright. Gonna be, anyway." 

Boyd's face turns serious, and he says, "Raylan, I have something important to say to you." 

Raylan frowns again, and he asks, "What's that?" 

"Raylan, I'm so ashamed of myself. I am. I can't even imagine what I was thinking, what kind of priorities I had in my head." 

"What are you talking about, Boyd?" Raylan asks carefully. He thinks he might know, but he can't be sure. 

"Raylan, the things I've said. The things I've said about people who are just like me. Who are just like _you._ " 

Boyd is looking at him with a kind of horror on his face, like he's only just now realized this terrible fact. Raylan would want to shake him if he hadn't been shot so recently. 

"I told myself that it didn't matter, that the only thing that mattered was my own success, and that those people had nothing to do with me, that I didn't owe them anything. And maybe I didn't, Raylan, but what I didn't understand was that I was taking something away from myself as well. It was killing me inside, but I barely even noticed." 

Raylan looks at him intently and says, "So... you ain't gonna be doing that no more. Is that what you're saying?" 

Boyd gets a huge, joyful smile on his face and says, "Oh, Raylan, so much more than that. I feel so _free._ I plan to live with integrity from now on. With honesty. I won't lie about myself, my past, or my true beliefs, not anymore." 

Raylan is happy that Boyd seems to have had this revelation, but it seems a little bit, well, almost religious in nature. Like a spiritual awakening, but instead of God, he's found gay pride. 

Also, the thing about not lying about his past... that sounds suspiciously like he wants to drag Raylan into the light with him, and Raylan figures he's more or less good with where he is. He's not sure Boyd has much of a past, aside from him. Although he certainly couldn't swear to that. 

"Raylan?" Boyd sounds almost nervous, like he's waiting for a reaction, or approval, or something. 

Raylan smiles at him. "That's great, Boyd. I'm real happy for you. Happy for the homos of Alabama too," he says, winking. 

"Raylan." Boyd is looking at him differently now, hesitantly reaching out a hand. Raylan takes it. He might as well, he thinks. He took it the night he thought Boyd was dying. He cried when he thought he was dying. "You were right to push me away. I didn't deserve you. I had no right to ask, only I was desperate. Pathetic. Of course you couldn't want me, who would?" 

Raylan opens his mouth to tell him no, that's not it, that's not why, but he finds he can't say it. Instead, he just says, "Well, you're thinking different now, right? You're gonna make amends. Plenty of people will want you, Boyd. You're..." 

He stops himself talking because he realizes he's not sure what was about to come out of his mouth. But Boyd, he's looking up at him like he wants to hear, like he needs to, so Raylan tells him, "Look. You almost died. You're saying things right now that you might not still feel once you're better and out of this bed. I hope you do, but I don't know, and neither do you." 

Boyd squeezes the hand he's been holding loosely. "I won't go back. I'm ready to start living as my true self, Raylan. Maybe you should think about doing the same." 

Raylan's heart beats faster, like he's getting ready to bolt. "Leave me out of it, Boyd. This ain't about me." 

"But it is. It's so much about you. That night, when we were young, Raylan, it stayed with me. All the things I said to you then, I meant. How can I make you believe that, and trust me?" 

Raylan only half-remembers what Boyd said to him that night, because he mostly stopped believing them when Boyd left and didn't return. He knows how they felt, though, like a promise and a threat. They ended up being nothing but a disappointment. 

"I guess I'll just have to wait and see, Boyd," Raylan says carefully. He decides he's going to ignore the stuff about himself for now. "I can tell you mean what you say. You'll just have to prove it." 

"I will. Can you promise to try to believe me?" 

Raylan looks at him, sees the sincerity, and he can't help hoping. He gives him a little smirk. "Okay. No more Rick Warren?" 

"No more Rick Warren." Boyd's grinning a little now. 

"No more goddamn James Dobson?" 

"No more Dobson. And definitely no more Sant-" 

"Don't even say it, Boyd," Raylan laughs. He leans down and kisses him gently on the cheek, lingering there maybe a little longer than strictly warranted by affection. 

"There. A show of good faith," he says, pulling back and not looking him in the eyes. He's not sure what emotion might be in them, and he's not sure he's ready to find that out. 

He says goodbye, and as he gets close to the door he can hear the Marshals talking outside. He pauses for a second and listens. The man is saying, "...think it's true, or was he messing with you?" The woman answers, "Well, he _is_ one of those guys, you know they always turn out to be-" She cuts off and steps aside when Raylan opens the door. 

He eyeballs the two of them for a second, then says, "You ought to be more careful who you let in there. You people didn't even ask for my ID. You do know who the Crowders are, right? And I got a feeling he might be about to make a lot more enemies, real soon." 

Raylan walks away, but he hears one of them opening the door behind him, going in to make sure Boyd's still alive. 

Six days later, Raylan decides to make a foray into Johnny's bar. He assumes the man must not want him dead, if he called to let him know he could visit Boyd. It feels a little weird seeing him, knowing for sure now that he saw what he saw. At least he hadn't seen them minutes before, when they were on top of each other. He'd only seen them saying goodbye. 

He goes in the afternoon on a Saturday, before the heavy crowd drifts in. It's only Johnny behind the bar; Tracy doesn't start her shift until 7. The place is about a quarter full, and Johnny's just watching baseball on the TV that's hung in the corner, and leaning against the bar. 

Johnny sets a glass in front of him and pours. He looks at Raylan a long moment, then says, "You gonna tell me what Boyd was doing outside Ava's house while you two were in there sleeping? Or were you fucking?" 

Raylan rubs at his forehead, then takes a drink and looks at him. He says, "Boyd came by after Ava went to bed. I wasn't expecting him, he just showed up, and we talked for a bit. Then he pissed me off and I went to bed. In the guest room, Johnny," he stresses, when the man opens his mouth like he's going to ask. “I don't know why he stuck around, honestly. Maybe he just didn't feel like going back to Bo's." 

Johnny huffs a very skeptical laugh, and Raylan looks at him in surprise. "What?" 

He gives Raylan a look very similar to the one Helen had given him when she told him why Johnny wasn't going to hurt him. "He was probably worried about you, stupid. And I guess he had good reason, didn't he?" 

"I didn't need some politician looking out for me, or Ava. I had the situation handled." Raylan is apparently more angry about this than he'd realized. "If he hadn't gotten involved, he wouldn't be in the fucking hospital now." 

Johnny rolls his eyes and refills Raylan's glass. He looks like he wants to say something, and Raylan knows he's probably been wanting to say it for twenty years. He's been feeling so oddly careless about this secret lately, so quick to let it go, but he's not at all sure this is a good thing. 

Nevertheless, before he can think about it too much, he leans forward and says, "Look here, Johnny. I know what you saw. Back then. Ava told me. Now you listen. I appreciate your understanding and goddamn discretion all these years. I ain't even sure why you took that approach, but I can't say I ain't glad about it. But you cannot be getting drunk and telling people about it." 

Johnny is staring at him like a cat up a tree. He raises his hands in surrender and says, "I'm sorry, Raylan. It was just Ava, I knew she wouldn't care. Truth be told-" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll keep it in mind. Just, Jesus, man. Keep it to yourself. People 'round here... well, you know." 

"I do know. I would have been like them too, probably, but.... well, it just made sense. It explained some shit." 

Raylan sips his drink and tries to figure out what he's trying to say, but he has no idea. "I ain't following." 

Johnny shrugs and says, "Well, the way Boyd never had time to do shit anymore after the two of you started up at the mine together. I'd call the house and he'd either already be out with you, or he was gettin' together with you later." 

Johnny pauses and dries some glasses for a minute, like he's trying to figure out what to say, or maybe just trying to work up the nerve to say it. He continues, "I would have understood if he'd got a girlfriend or something, but I thought it was weird just always wanting to hang out with one friend. Once I realized y'all were... fuckin', or whatever," Johnny says, definitely not looking at Raylan at this point, "it made more sense." 

Raylan's face holds a humorless smirk. "Sorry to bust your bubble, but we weren't fuckin' or anything else most of that time. It was only one time, the night you saw us. Because Boyd was leaving, so..." 

_"Yeah, I get it. Christ, Raylan. That's pathetic. All that time, you-"_

"Yeah," Raylan snaps, more harshly than he'd intended. "I know." It was pathetic, and has always pissed him off. Neither of them had been willing to do what they both knew they wanted. Raylan had known Boyd wanted him. He wasn't fucking blind, or stupid. He'd just been too cowardly, too weak. 

"Anyway," Johnny says, "I always thought about how much he must piss you off with all his holy roller shit." 

Raylan pours the last drops of whiskey into his mouth, and looks at Johnny with irritation. "That's quite an observation, Crowder, seeing as how I shoot my mouth off in here every time the subject comes up." 

Johnny grins to himself, pours another for Raylan and turns to watch the game again. 

The bar starts to fill up and gets noisier, and Raylan is fairly drunk by this time. A woman he vaguely recognizes - he thinks she was a freshman when he was a senior, which makes her older than his usual, but that's okay- sits down next to him and asks if he's there alone. He grins and tells her not anymore, and he makes her giggle with stupid jokes, and he buys her a drink. 

Then the music stops, and the volume on the TV goes up. When people protest, Johnny tells them to shut up, because Boyd is on there, standing outside the hospital. He's a bit pale and thinner-looking than he was the day of the funeral, but he looks healthy. 

He tells the reporters he'll answer a few questions afterwards, but that he has some things to say that are of the utmost importance. Raylan's mouth gapes open slightly. Is he doing this? 

"I am addressing the entire nation today, but most especially my own constituents in Alabama, as well as the people close to my heart in the place I grew up, here in Harlan, Kentucky. I had a near-death experience, and as many people have said before me, this can profoundly affect one's outlook." 

Raylan's hand drifts up to his mouth and rests there lightly. His eyes are wide and can't look away from the screen. The woman he was flirting with says, "You knew him, right? Back at Evarts?" Raylan nods, but doesn't look at her. 

On the television, Boyd continues. "I have made a career of latching on to certain types of people, of adopting their positions as my own, because I knew that was my surest route to national office. I have mouthed the intolerance and hatred of others, all the while with the full awareness that these beliefs not only clashed with my own, but indeed came into direct conflict with the truth of my own experience." 

Raylan breathes out, "Holy shit..." and Johnny meets his eyes briefly, his own full of shock. 

"I can no longer stay silent and remain a participant in the oppression of others, and in truth, of myself. My eyes have been opened, not only by the near miss of that bullet by my heart, but also by a man who is a very old, dear friend as well as my first love. I had not had the pleasure of seeing him for quite a long time, and his anger with me, and the choices I've made over the years, cut me very deeply - not least because I knew he was right." 

Raylan's hand, almost of it's own volition, has crept up to cover most of his face, his long fingers spreading out to allow just enough space to see. It seems as if everyone in the bar is staring at him now, everyone except for Johnny, who is leaning back in a falsely casual manner, wiping out a glass that is long since dry. 

Boyd seems to be ready to go on forever, and no one in the bar says a word as he speaks. 

"People may speculate about my marriage, and this is perfectly understandable, but I would like to say for the record that I loved Theresa very much, both affectionately and romantically, and I would never wish for her or anyone else to believe otherwise. It is simply that my heart is open to more forms of expression than I have previously indicated." 

Several of the reporters jump in during a pause in Boyd's speech, but he holds up a hand until they quiet down. "Please," he says, "I only have a bit more, then I'll answer some questions. I want to offer my sincere apologies, first to the many sincerely religious people I have deceived in order to obtain their support, but second - and most importantly - to the people whose rights and whose very dignity I carelessly trampled upon in my climb. I am deeply ashamed, and I can only throw myself at your mercy, and the mercy of your supporters. You have a right to your contempt for me, and I would not claim otherwise. I can only say I am sorry, and I have seen the light, and I will make it my personal mission to make up for the harm I have done in whatever way I am able. My party has a great deal to answer for, and a great deal of progress to make in this area, and I hope to be a part of that. Thank you, I'll take a few questions now." 

Johnny shuts off the television, and there is a second of almost perfect silence in the bar. Then the talk starts buzzing up, fast and loud, and Raylan's sexual prospect suddenly says in a loud, high-pitched voice, "Was he talking about _you?_ " 

Raylan has just enough time to feel glad he didn't end up going home with a woman that slow on the uptake, before people are in his face. Some seem shocked, some much less so. A couple of them seem genuinely angry about it, seem to be taking it personally. 

He knows he needs to go, and he starts to pull out his wallet. Johnny shakes his head and says, "Later. Get the fuck outta here, man." 


	3. Chapter Three: The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava has a hand in bringing the boys together.

Ava's been back at her house for a few days, and Raylan heads straight there from the bar. There's no way he's going back to his own home now, not with Arlo there, always sitting in front of the fucking television. Though who the hell knows if he's lucid enough to even follow that ridiculously wordy speech of Boyd's.

She opens the door with a huge smile on her face, and he looks at her like she's gone mad. 

"I could fucking kill him," he growls, as soon as he walks through the door. He doesn't feel very drunk anymore, just woozy and he can feel a headache working its way up between his eyes. 

She follows him into the living room where he makes himself at home on the couch, and sits beside him. He tells her everything that happened at Johnny's, and her mouth falls open as he talks. When he's finished, she pats him on the thigh and says, "You should be happy about it, Raylan. Now you can forgive him, you don't have to stay angry."

"Ava," Raylan says, rubbing the bridge of his nose hard, like he can dig out the pain, "he had no right bringing me into it. Goddamnit, that is just like him. Once he gets something in his head, that's the way everyone's gotta be. Can't just say okay, this is who I am, he's gotta out me to all of Harlan. I swear, I got half a mind to-"

"Raylan. Stop. He didn't use your name." 

Raylan threw her a withering look, and she did at least have the decency to look slightly abashed. 

"Think about what a big thing this was for him to do," she says. "He's probably gonna lose his career, and not only that, he's gonna be hated and ridiculed by people on both sides of this."

"His fault," Raylan says stubbornly.

"Well, yes it is, Raylan. I suppose you've never done anything to cause problems for yourself? Never made a bad decision that got away from you?"

Raylan works his jaw and throws himself back on the couch. His eyes are closed, and he feels Ava shift on the sofa next to him, then her weight settles over his lap. 

He doesn't open his eyes, just says, "Didn't we talk about this already? Several times?"

"Oh hush," she replies, "No one has to know. They all think you're gay now anyway." 

She rubs herself against him lightly, leaning close to kiss the side of his face. He can't help reacting, and maybe this is alright. He's been thinking about it for years, and he can only resist an open offer by a beautiful woman so many times.

He moves his hand between her legs, slides his finger in, presses against her. She's ready for him now, feels like she's been ready for a long time. She moans into his ear and writhes into his hand. He unzips his jeans and frees his cock, and then she's on him. She grinds against him and he gasps with the suddenness of it. 

"Don't come," she whispers, and he nods quickly. Her movements are frantic, almost desperate, and he reaches under her blouse to roll her nipples beneath his thumbs. She whimpers wordlessly, and when he puts his mouth to one of them, she says, "Oh God! Raylan!" She jerks against him, and he can feel her heart pounding against his cheek. She shudders, and pulls him into her, deep and hard. 

When she finishes, she lifts off and slides to her knees in front of him. She looks up and says, "Now you can come," and puts her mouth on him. Her tongue rubs against the sensitive head, and he groans when she takes him all the way in. He comes as quickly as she did, his body contracting with the tension, then letting it out in a flood of release. 

She sits next to him on the sofa, and he reaches around her shoulders to pull her in against him. They rest there for awhile, and eventually Raylan says, "If you knew about me and Boyd, how come you didn't think I was gay?"

She laughs real low and says, "You think I don't know by now what it looks like when a man wants to get in my panties?"

"Well," he says, like he's considering the question, "No, if I had to guess, I'd imagine you're fairly familiar with that look by this point."

"I'd imagine you are too, Raylan. I doubt you go home alone very often, when you don't want to be."

Raylan just shrugs. It's true, and it ain't. Sometimes he goes home alone when he doesn't want to, but not for lack of opportunity. Sometimes Harlan doesn't offer him the chance to take home the kind of person he might be in the mood for on a particular evening. Who knows, though, maybe they'll all be coming out of the woodwork for him now. 

"Can I tell you something without you freaking out?" she asks. 

Raylan raises an eyebrow at her. "Since you put it that way, I kinda doubt it. Go ahead anyway."

"You're the only man I've been with other than Bowman."

Raylan takes a few seconds to process this before replying. It makes perfect sense, of course. She'd started seeing him when she was 16. It just hadn't occurred to him. He says, "Well, if you'd told me that, I might have put a little more thought into it, honey."

She shakes her head and says, "That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want any big production, Raylan. That right there was exactly perfect, alright? It's what we both needed. Now we can relax around each other a little better."

He nods. He knows better than to try to tell a woman what's good for her. Even if she doesn't know, it seems even more unlikely that he would. 

"How come you never settled down with someone, Raylan?" she asks, pulling back from him and reaching for her panties. 

"Don't have all that much to offer anyone. Not in the long term. No money, the possibility I'll end up in prison, and the indisputable fact that I'm gonna need something they can't offer me, at least every now and again. You know a lot of women who'd take a deal like that?"

"What about a guy?"

"Same deal. Surely you must know how insecure men can be. They know me for an evening, they don't give a shit if I just fucked a girl an hour before. Try to date, and it's a completely different story. So I just don't. Some people have a real strong leaning one way or the other, but it ain't like that for me. Seems I'm indecisive that way."

Ava gets up and grabs a beer from the fridge. "Want one?" she calls. 

"Nope. Some aspirin would be great, though. Or morphine. My head feels like it's gonna explode."

"Upstairs bathroom cabinet," she replies. "Take some of those, then go to bed. Your choice which bed. I'll be up later."

In the bathroom, he swallows some Advil and looks at himself in the mirror. He feels as if doesn't know who he's looking at. He heads off to sleep in the guest room. 

Raylan wakes to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of conversation coming from downstairs. He hears Ava laughing, and walks into the kitchen to find her standing at the stove, and Boyd Crowder sitting at the table. 

Boyd looks up when he enters, his face smiling and hopeful, but somewhat apprehensive. Raylan looks at him steadily for a moment, then says, "Boyd." He walks over and kisses Ava on the cheek, then tells her the bacon smells good. She gives him a wry look as he goes to sit down. 

"Bacon always smells good, Raylan. That ain't no kind of compliment. How you want your eggs?" 

"Scrambled, thanks," he replies as he sits down across from Boyd. "What are you doing here?" he asks. 

"I came to ask if you would spend some time with me today," Boyd says. "I haven't been back here in so long, and I would love to go walking in the hills. Hoped for some company."

"I got shit to do today, Boyd," Raylan says, "but maybe in another twenty years when you come back for a visit."

Ava had cracked some eggs into a bowl and is beating them with a fork. She turns around to frown at him like he's a smartass kid. "Raylan Givens!" she scolds. "You stop that nonsense right now. I won't have it in my kitchen."

Raylan looks up at her from under raised brows and says, "Alright, alright. Calm down."

Boyd leans forward a little and says, "I know you're pissed about the press conference-"

"Not the press conference, Boyd," Raylan says, very heated now. "That was just fine. It's the part where you mentioned me, particularly because I just happened to be surrounded by half the hillbillies in this fucking town at that very moment." 

Boyd's mouth twists up for a second like he's pushing down a laugh. "I know, Ava told me about that. I am truly sorry, Raylan. It was certainly not my intention to put you in any danger."

Raylan huffs in annoyance, because he knows he's going to say yes to Boyd's invitation. He never was going to turn him down, he just wanted to make him work for it a little bit. But now Ava's taken Boyd's side, and Raylan can't very well continue to treat him poorly if he wants any of that bacon, which he most definitely does. 

"Alright, Boyd. Fine. I'll go for a walk with you."

Boyd gets a big smile on his face and says, "Ava here offered to pack us a lunch. Wasn't that nice of her?"

Raylan narrows his eyes at Ava, and she quickly moves her eyes back to the eggs she's scrambling. He has a suspicion she was looking back and forth between them, possibly picturing them doing more than eating her sandwiches. He can't say the thought doesn't hold some appeal. 

They eat breakfast and Boyd talks a little bit about what he's going to have to do once he gets back to DC. 

"I'll have to make the rounds of the Sunday morning shows, of course. I'll have to do a lot of other stuff too, in response to this. You know I'm up for reelection in a little under a year."

Raylan and Ava are both staring at him. Raylan says, "You're still planning to run for reelection?"

"Of course I am," Boyd replies, as if there was no question of not doing it.

"On the Republican ticket. In Alabama."

"Absolutely, Raylan. I still believe in fiscal respon-"

"Stop," Raylan says. "No politics at breakfast, huh? This ain't Washington. All I'm saying is, you think they'll want you still?"

Boyd accepts the plate Ava holds out to him. She puts one down in front of Raylan too, then sits down herself. Boyd smiles his thanks at her, then says, "I suppose that remains to be seen, Raylan. But I won't simply roll over and die just because they may be a bit uncomfortable with me. Truth be told, they need me." 

He grins, and Raylan thinks he looks just like he used to in the old days when a scheme was coming together in his head. Raylan can't help the small smile that appears on his lips, so he shoves some toast in his mouth to hide it. He suspects Ava might have seen it though, because she is looking awfully smug. 

After breakfast, Ava throws some leftover cold chicken into a container, puts in half a loaf of homemade bread and some cheese. She also gives them the five beers left from the six pack she'd started the night before, packs everything in an old gym bag and hands it to Raylan. 

They decide to take Raylan's truck, because Boyd wants to hike in some fairly rough country, and his rental car might not be up to it. As they're getting into the cab, Ava comes out with a blanket in her arms and throws it into the truck bed. "So you don't have to eat on the ground," she says, smirking just a little bit. Raylan rolls his eyes, but not actually at her. He tells her thank you. 

They drive way up into the hills. Neither of them is talking much; Boyd is looking out the window at the scenery, which Raylan barely sees anymore. He can sort of imagine how it might feel, though, to have been away for so long and suddenly be thrust back into it. Boyd won't be in Kentucky much longer, though. It's not like he's come back for good. 

Raylan parks the truck in the brush beside the narrow dirt path that can't really be called a road. They get out and stretch, and decide to leave the food in the truck and come back to eat. They're still full from breakfast. Raylan sticks the beers in the small stream that trickles by a few yards away.

They walk for a couple hours. Boyd asks Raylan some careful questions about his life in Harlan, most of which Raylan answers with a shrug and a deflection. He does talk about Arlo a bit, and Boyd frowns with concern when Raylan mentions the things that have been happening lately. 

"What are you gonna do, Raylan?"

Raylan sighs. "Take him in, get him some pills, I guess. Whether he's willing to take 'em, that's a different story. Don't know what else I can do. Maybe I shoulda let Helen move in like she wanted to twelve years ago."

"What?" Boyd looks at him in surprise.

"Yeah, they had some sort of thing, I guess, after my mama died. I don't know, I don't want to know. She was talkin' about moving in, he asked her, but I couldn't deal. I told her I didn't want her in the house, and if she cared about me at all he'd stay the hell away from Arlo. I don't know if she thought... I don't know what she thought, but there's no way I could watch him do the same shit to her as he did to my mother."

Boyd nods, says, "I don't blame you one bit. I might have done the same."

"But now, I don't know. Maybe she coulda handled him. She never was weak like mama was."

Boyd is silent for a bit after that, but answers when Raylan asks about his ex-wife. She was a Yankee from upstate New York. She'd grown up poor, but she was both brilliant and beautiful, and she got a scholarship doing pageants in high school. 

Boyd met her when they were both in law school in Tuscaloosa, and they married just after graduation. She went on to take the bar exam and got a job with a firm that handled corporate litigation, while Boyd got started in politics. She believed in him, helped to pay off his crippling student loans, and became the picture perfect wife for a conservative politician. 

"Did you love her?" Raylan asks. 

"Of course I did, why else would I have married her?"

"I don't know... It's just that she sounds a little bit... terrifying," Raylan replies. "I mean, I'm sure she was lovely."

Boyd laughs and says, "Well, now you mention it, she is, kinda. Rather intimidating, though not to me. All her self-confidence couldn't keep that little girl in second-hand clothes and a drunk for a daddy hidden from someone like me. I could see her like other people couldn't, that's why she loved me."

Raylan smiles at that. That sounds right. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

Boyd grins ruefully and says, "Probably for the best. She married a hedge fund manager less than a year after our divorce. They make a lovely, terrifying couple together." 

They had circled back at one point, and by the time they returned to the truck, the sun was high in the sky and hot as hell. Boyd retrieves the beers, and Raylan spreads the blanket out in the truck. 

He smiles a little at the thought of Ava trying to engineer some kind of make out session for him with Boyd. That might happen - actually, he's fairly sure it's going to - but if she thinks she's getting a play by play breakdown of it, she's going to be sorely disappointed.

The truck is parked in the shade, and they sit for a few minutes just drinking the cold beer and cooling down. Boyd is looking at him, Raylan can feel it, and when he looks up he sees it. He can't quite read the expression on Boyd's face. It's not the desperate look of the night he was shot. It's a little sad, but mostly it just looks like he's waiting. 

Raylan looks right back at him and thinks maybe he owes Boyd a first move. Boyd did it the other time, and the stakes had seemed much higher then. He sets down his beer and pulls Boyd's gently from his hand. He reaches out for Boyd's shoulder and pulls him forward, leaning in to meet him halfway. 

Boyd makes a short, little moaning noise against his mouth and runs a hand up Raylan's arm to his shoulder, then to his neck. Raylan climbs up on his lap and pushes him back gently, straddling him and kissing him with his arms braced on either side.

Boyd is hard, wanting, and Raylan can feel the desire coming off of him. And yet, Boyd breaks the kiss, pushes him back. Raylan slides over to his side, but stays close, puts a hand on his chest. "What?" he asks. "What's wrong?"

"Raylan," Boyd says very quietly, "I don't really know what I'm doing."

Raylan smiles slowly and lowers his head to kiss Boyd's chest through his sweaty t-shirt. "Well, that's okay," he says. "I do."

He kisses Boyd a few more times, and a thought comes to him. He looks up and asks, "Wait. Are you saying you've never been with _any_ guys, all these years?"

Boyd nods, and he looks embarrassed. Well, Raylan thinks, he should. He smacks Boyd upside the head, not too gently, and says, "You stupid fuck."

"I know," Boyd says, "Sorry." He looks so shamed and nervous that Raylan can't bring himself to give him any more grief. 

He sighs and says, "Alright. Well it ain't brain surgery. I think for right now, you can just keep kissing me. You're good at that." He smiles, and Boyd smiles back. He tugs at Boyd's shoulder until he rolls over, and Raylan lets him be in control for awhile. He really is a good kisser; he always was, or maybe they're just good kissers together. 

After awhile, Raylan's hand drifts down and rubs at Boyd's fly. Boyd pushes into it, and then Raylan unzips him. They're in the middle of a kiss when Raylan gets a hand on his dick, and Boyd makes a sound like, "Mmpf," which makes Raylan grin. 

Raylan can tell he's pretty worked up, and he gets it. When he's only been with women for long stretches at a time, being with a man is incredibly exciting. For Boyd, it's been a very long twenty year stretch, and Raylan wants to make it good for him, make it last. 

He pulls his hand away after a few minutes of steady stroking, and Boyd groans, grabs his hand and tries to pull it back where it had been. 

"No," Raylan says, "not like that. I can do better than that, just you wait." He kisses him again, thrusting fingers into the hair at the back of his head. "Now it's my turn. I think maybe you could get down there and suck my dick for a little while."

Boyd looks kind of sad again, and he says, "I won't be any good."

Raylan snorts softly and says, "You know what Boyd, I happen to be of the school of thought that says there ain't no such thing as a bad blowjob. There's only good ones and better ones."

"Raylan," Boyd starts, and he truly does look worried about it.

Raylan cuts him off with a shake of his head and a kiss. "Listen to me," he says, pulling back only slightly, "You were my first boy. And it wasn't me who was brave enough to make the first move, it was you. For years after that, every boy I was ever with, I put them up against you. And I gotta tell you, it didn't matter how pretty they were, or how good they were at sucking cock - didn't none of them ever measure up." 

Boyd looks stricken now, and that's not what Raylan wants. He only wants to make him feel good, and he kisses him. 

"I want this, Boyd," he says, "It don't matter if you don't know how, it'll be good for me anyway. Just... think about what you like, and try to do that. I assume you've at least been on the receiving end of this act. I hear even WASPy Republican wives do oral these days."

Boyd pulls the side of his mouth up and mutters, "Not all that often."

Raylan barks out a surprised laugh and kisses him again. "Come on, now. You don't even have to get me off, I just want your mouth on me. Please."

Boyd crawls down and takes Raylan in his hand. He's only half-hard now, after their conversation, but as soon as Boyd licks him, he's right back where he was. Boyd does that a few more times, slowly, and Raylan shifts up slightly, gently tugging at his hair. 

Boyd glances up at him, and Raylan smiles down. Still holding him at the base, Boyd slides his mouth over him a bit tentatively. Raylan's fingers are still in his hair, and he strokes through it. He almost croons, "That's good, just keep goin'."

Boyd moves up and down, tries to take him deeper, gags a little and backs off. He looks up when that happens and Raylan says, "Happens to everyone. Don't care, just keep goin' Boyd. It feels real good." 

It does feel good, sort of reminds him of the first blow job he ever got, from a girl named Tammy, when he was 16. She didn't know what the fuck she was doing either, but she wanted to make him happy. 

"Try swallowing once it's in there," Raylan says, and he feel Boyd do it, feels his throat contract and pull him deeper, and when he pulls up there's so much more pressure. He groans and says, "Mmmm, there you go..." Boyd rubs his thigh, maybe to thank him for the feedback. 

After a little while, Boyd pulls off and jerks him with his hand a few times as he gets his breath. Raylan wants his mouth again, but not on his dick. "Come up here," he says. 

Boyd comes up to lay beside him. "I wish I could be better for you, Raylan."

Raylan frowns at him. "Shut up, Boyd. Don't talk like that no more. If you knew..." He kisses him rather than finish that sentence. He tries again. "This is good for me. You need to believe me now, 'cause I ain't gonna keep telling you."

Boyd smiles and nods at him, then kisses him. "I've missed you, Raylan. You're different than I expected to find you, but I like it."

"Yeah, well. I missed you too. Now seriously, shut up. Just... " Raylan thinks for a second, then has an idea. "Let's just do what we did that first time. Do you remember?"

Boyd looks amused. "All we did was hump each other, and I think you managed to get your hand on my dick for about two seconds before I came."

Raylan grins. "Yeah. That was fuckin' hot, right?"

It doesn't turn out quite like that. They get undressed, and Boyd sits up against the cab of the truck. Raylan climbs onto his lap and kisses him for awhile as he holds onto Boyd's cock. He doesn't do much with it, just wants to make sure it stays hard, to make sure he wants it bad by the time he gets to come. His other hand is wrapped around the base of Boyd's skull, and he strokes the skin behind his ear with his thumb. 

"Raylan, I want to make you come," Boyd says in a low, pleading voice. 

Raylan laughs quietly and replies, "You're going to, don't you worry about that."

"Now, Raylan," he says, and Raylan can hear a hint of his usual bossy self-confidence again. "I want to see what it looks like when I make you come."

Raylan pulls back and looks at him. "Well," he says, smiling. "I think you may be a natural at this." He kneels up in front of him and says, "Alright, then. Make me come, son." 

When Boyd hesitates, Raylan reaches down and holds his face for a moment. "It won't take much. You get me going, Boyd. Just do what you feel, I promise it'll work."

Boyd wraps his slender fingers around him and strokes as he looks up at Raylan's face, which is staring down at him. He extends his tongue and licks him from the base to the tip, then slides down to lick his balls. He doesn't stop the pull and push of his hand, and only alters the steady rhythm to speed up slightly. 

Boyd comes back up to dart his tongue at the head of his cock, and Raylan feels it starting. He suddenly can't believe he's looking at Boyd. Many times over the years, fucking some boy he barely knows, he's closed his eyes and imagined it was Boyd. 

In recent years, the thought had begun to inspire anger in equal measure to excitement, but that didn't take anything away from it in the moment; it was only afterwards that it made him feel terrible. 

Now, he's staring down at the real thing, and he's inexperienced, and insecure, and still very, very sexy. The anger is probably still there, but he's not feeling it right now. Raylan lets go, he wants to give Boyd what he's looking for, and it does feel so good. 

He touches Boyd on the cheek and says, "I'm gonna come for you, Boyd. I'm..." His body takes over more quickly than he expected, and Boyd pulls it out of him, licking at the come that shoots across his chin and lips. 

Raylan rests his hand on Boyd's head for a second, then falls to his knees and kisses him until they're both sloppy and sticky with his come. Then he grins at Boyd and kisses his way down his old friend's body, noting how fit he is, how slim but strong-looking, and takes his cock into his mouth all at once. The time for teasing and conversation is over. 

Boyd lifts up and groans. "Oh, Raylan," he says, "Oh God, yes... oh please... you're so good, oh shit... I'm coming, _fuck_ , I'm coming in your mouth, _Raylan_ , oh God, I can't..."

Raylan holds onto him tight, hands gripping his hips and pressing his forehead against his stomach as Boyd rides it out. When he feels it slow to a stop, he gently releases him and rolls onto his back beside him. Boyd turns his body towards him to lay a hand on his chest, and Raylan extends his arm so Boyd can rest his head on it. 

They stay there for a bit, resting in silence. Raylan isn't doing much thinking at the moment, and he hopes it can last like that for a little while. He dozes off in the heat and humidity that wraps around them, even in the shade. 

Raylan startles awake when he feels the weight of Boyd's head lift from his shoulder. He smiles sleepily up at him and asks, "Where you going?"

Boyd grins back and says, "Thought I might try to wash your come off my face before I eat lunch." He hops down from the truck bed and walks over to the little stream. Raylan follows him after a moment, and they both wash up the best they can. 

They stay and eat almost everything Ava packed for them, and finish off the beers. They pass the last one back and forth as they lean up against each other in the back of Raylan's old, dusty truck. It feels like a timeless moment, like they could be any age, as if their lives could be anything. 

When they've been quiet for awhile, Boyd asks suddenly, "If I knew what?"

Raylan frowns and says, "What?"

"Before, you said, 'if I knew,' but then you stopped yourself. What did you mean to say?"

Raylan shakes his head. Boyd doesn't need to know this shit. There's no point. "It's nothing," he says. "Nothing that matters now."

Boyd sighs. "Let me ask you a question, then."

"Alright."

"Why did you stay here? You always said you wanted to leave so bad, that there was nothing here for you."

Raylan runs his hand through his hair and looks away. "If I tell you, it's only gonna sound like I'm placing the blame everywhere except where it belongs. I _know_ where it belongs, Boyd. You understand? I am the one to blame for how I ended up."

Boyd is looking at him with some surprise, but he just says, "Alright, Raylan. I get it."

Raylan huffs out a hard sigh and says, "I thought you would come back. That's why I stayed here. I should have left when you did, but I waited instead. And then after awhile, enough time passed that I knew you weren't comin' back, but by then it was already too late."

Boyd is staring at him with a terrible expression on his face. Raylan is pissed at himself, because he knew this would happen. He should never have said that. 

"Raylan, I'm-" Boyd starts, but Raylan cuts him off before he can say the words. 

"Don't be. I told you. It's me, Boyd. I'm the one who fucked up. You never made any promises."

But that isn't quite true, and Raylan's pretty sure they both know it. Boyd had only said he was going into the Army to learn some skills. He never said anything about going off to school after, and he never wrote or called to tell Raylan of his change of plans. Raylan always understood why, but that didn't keep it from feeling like a knife in the gut.

Boyd is touching him on the shoulder now, and he lowers his forehead to rest on Raylan's bicep. "Raylan, quit it. Don't try to brush away my part in this. I know what I did. And I did it for the worst reasons. God, Raylan, I am so sorry. You must have been so angry with me. You must still be."

"Yes," Raylan says, very quietly, and it feels like such a relief to finally admit it, to finally allow some small piece of the weight of guilt and disappointment to be taken from his shoulders and lifted by someone else, for once. 

Boyd picks up his head and reaches a hand up to brush through Raylan's hair. "Someday maybe you can forgive me. I would really like that."

Raylan looks at him and says, "So would I, Boyd."

Boyd climbs on top of him now, and he holds Raylan's face in both hands as he kisses him. "I don't want this to be the end of things, Raylan. I want more of you. I want us to... I want to try for something like maybe we should have before."

Raylan pushes him back gently. "Boyd. I don't see how that can work. You live so far away. And anyways... I don't really... do well in relationships."

Boyd tilts his head at him and says, "Why?"

Raylan doesn't really want to talk about this for the second time in two days, with the second person he's fucked in two days, but Boyd is looking at him like he really fucking wants to know. He says, "I get... restless."

Boyd grins at him and says, "Oh. Is that it? You get restless... like you want to go get some pussy, that kind of restless? Or..."

"Yeah. Or the other way around, depending. People don't tend to take kindly to that."

Boyd's grin grows wider and he says, "Well, Raylan, maybe you just been seeing the wrong people."

Raylan frowns at him and says, "So you're saying you wouldn't care if I wanted to go fuck a girl?"

"I'm saying maybe we could share one, once in awhile. Or two. Whatever. I'm saying... I don't know how it would be, Raylan, but it sounds pretty good to me in my head."

"I don't know..." 

Raylan thinks it sounds kind of too good to be true, but he's having a hard time concentrating on that thought or any other, because Boyd is pressing himself close now, rubbing back and forth in tiny motions, and kissing just behind his ear, which drives him fucking crazy. Boyd runs his tongue down behind his jaw and into the place where his pulse beats, gives it a little suck, and Raylan's body heaves an involuntary shudder.

Boyd grins, his question answered. Raylan scowls, because he hates it when he can't stop himself from doing something. But Boyd is snaking his hand up under his shirt now and playing with his nipple, and he hitches up into him harder. 

They slide flat onto the blanket, Boyd on top and still moving in that excruciatingly controlled way. "Harder, please..." Raylan grits out, and Boyd obliges, dragging his hips against him. 

"Now, this is more like the other time," Boyd says.

"Yeah," Raylan replies, "'cept I ain't half scared outta my mind." He smiles softly and looks into Boyd's eyes. "Though maybe I should be."

Boyd shakes his head slowly and says, "No, Raylan. You got nothing to fear from me, not anymore."

Raylan doesn't think he can know that at all, but he'll take the sentiment in the spirit it's offered. He grabs his ass and moves with him, and they get each other off, and he feels a little like a kid again when Boyd whoops and kisses him hard as he comes. 

Raylan drops him back at his car, outside of Ava's. Boyd kisses him quickly, unexpectedly, before he gets out of the truck, and Raylan sits for a minute, watching him drive off. He drives himself home without going in to see Ava. He just doesn't feel like answering any questions.


	4. Chapter Four: The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd goes on television, Raylan deals with Arlo, and Ava plays matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter early as a Valentine for you people. :)

Raylan manages to avoid Arlo for two days after being outed via press conference to everyone he knows. He knows it can't last forever though, and he comes downstairs one morning to find his father sitting at the kitchen table, drinking Old Crow at 8am on a Sunday morning. Raylan declines to comment, but Arlo chooses not to offer the same courtesy.

"I knew it," he says, cackling. "You and that Crowder boy. I _knew_ it."

"Congratulations," he returns mildly. "You figured out what was probably obvious to anyone who spent more than five minutes with us back then." 

Raylan pours a glass of orange juice and drinks it down in two gulps. He's not about to spend any more time with Arlo than he has to, but he figured he might as well get this over with. There's no secret anymore. Boyd exposed him, along with himself, but people don't understand who he is any more than they did before. 

"Tell you what," Arlo is saying, "don't you even think about bringin' no boys home with you. I don't hold with that shit."

Raylan rolls his eyes. "Don't know why you'd think I would. Never brought no girls home neither. I don't need anyone looking at you and thinking this is what's in store if they stick around." Not that it matters, of course. Most people don't stick around more than a few weeks, if that. 

Raylan rinses his glass and sets it in the drainer. "Arlo," he says, "tomorrow I'm driving you up to the VA hospital for a checkup. Don't forget. Your appointment's at eleven, so you're gonna have to hold off on drinking until normal person hours. Got it?"

The old man glares at him, and Raylan sighs because he knows it's going to be a pain in the ass. Maybe Ava will help him. 

Raylan is more worried, at the moment, about what he's going to do for money, now that Bo Crowder is in jail and all of Harlan's criminal element is uncomfortable with him, at best. 

His best bet is Johnny, but it seems the man doesn't yet know what he plans to do. He'd never expected to inherit anything, had long since resigned himself to simply running that bar the rest of his life, and he'd once told Raylan that he'd found he enjoyed it, and maybe didn't need more than that. It's Harlan, though, and he's a Crowder, so you never know.

He drives to Ava's house. She'd called him the night before to ask if he wanted to come over and watch Boyd go on Face the Nation, his first television appearance since the press conference. She hasn't yet asked him about what happened in the woods, but he's quite sure she won't let it go for long. 

She's got coffee and muffins ready when he gets there, and she greets him at the door with a kiss on the cheek. 

She wastes no time in beginning her interrogation. He thinks the woman ought really to work for the police, because she is like a dog with a damn bone when she wants information.

"So," she begins, with obvious relish, "did you and Boyd have a good time?"

"Uh huh," he replies, then takes a big bite out of a muffin. "Mmmm, this is good, honey. You should open a bakery."

She pulls her legs up under her on the sofa and says, "He still looks good, huh?"

"Ava, this conversation needs to move in a different direction," he says. 

He can feel a flush rising up his neck, and he knows she's noticing, because she gets an evil grin on her face. She says, "You have got to be kidding me. Come on, Raylan. You were gone a long time, and I know you weren't spending that whole time talking."

"Yeah, we hiked a good long ways."

She snatches the food out of his hand and says, "If you don't give me something right now, I ain't about to sit here and watch this with you."

He heaves an irritated sigh and says, "Jesus Christ, Ava. Why do you want to know so bad? It ain't like you and me made some kind of commitment just because we screwed once. I wasn't the one pushing for that anyway."

She looks a little hurt, and really mad, and he feels bad, but shit. This is hard enough to talk about without her laying a guilt trip on him. 

"Raylan, you are so stupid sometimes," she says, shaking her head. "You think that's what this is about? You think I'm jealous? Why do you think I sent you off with him?"

He had known that, of course, but now that it actually happened, and he's back in her living room, he feels like maybe he did something wrong. Like maybe she should be pissed off about it. 

He tells her, "I don't know, honey. I ain't used to people being okay with shit like that. It's hard to know how to take it."

She's grinning like she's about to take a victory lap now, and he realizes he's just given her more information than he'd meant to. 

"So you did!" she says gleefully. "You fooled around with him, didn't you? Oh my god, Raylan. What was that like after all that time?"

His head is in his hands now, and he groans. "I ain't gonna talk about it. Give up now."

"I ain't asking for graphic details, Raylan. I mean, unless you want to volunteer some. I'm just asking what it was like for you. Are you okay? Was it weird?"

He looks up at her with a perplexed frown. "Girl, how is it a young widow such as yourself, from Harlan, Kentucky, thinks she wants to hear graphic details about gay sex acts involving a man she just fucked the day before? You having some kinda breakdown?"

Ava just giggles, sips at her coffee and waits. 

Raylan rolls his eyes and says, "Hell yes, it was weird. Of course it was. Not so much during. More like, after, when I had a minute to think. I think he wants to... date."

"You mean he wants to date you?" She widens her eyes at him.

"What else would I mean?" He's still embarrassed, and it's coming off as exasperated. "Yeah. He seems to think... shit, I don't know what he thinks."

"Well, what did he say when you told him you don't do that?" she says, and Raylan has to wonder when it was she got him all figured out. They've known each other for many years, but he'd had no idea she'd been paying attention. 

"He suggested that I rethink that position, because I haven't tried dating him."

That, and possibly whatever expression accompanies that statement on Raylan's face, sends Ava into peals of laughter. "Of course he did," she manages to get out. "Of course that's what he thinks. So what did you say to that?"

"I said I didn't know."

She stops laughing then and looks at him with dawning wonder. "You did?"

Raylan nods slowly, fully understanding her surprise. It surprises him too. "Yeah," he says. "And then we fooled around again." He bugs his eyes out at her like he knows how fucking crazy the whole thing sounds, but he also can't help the small grin that twists his mouth up just the tiniest bit.

She smiles at him and takes a bite of a muffin, then scoots over to pull his arm around her. She picks up the remote and turns on the television, and together they watch Boyd talk to Bob Schieffer. 

When it's over, he asks if she'll come with him to Lexington the next day and help with Arlo. She says she will, and he kisses her, but leaves it at that. She doesn't push for more either, and it feels like they're both waiting to see. 

The following morning, Ava arrives at the house earlier than Raylan had asked her to. The appointment is for 11am, and it's only 8 when she gets there, but she brings banana bread with her, and when Raylan lets her in she goes straight to the kitchen to put coffee on. 

"You don't have to do that, Ava," Raylan says, scratching the back of his head and yawning. "I am quite capable of starting a pot of coffee. 

She looks at him like she doesn't know what he's talking about for a second, and then she laughs self-consciously. "Right, yeah," she says, "I know. Old habits die hard, Raylan. And anyhow, this way at least I know it'll be the way I like it."

"Alright," Raylan says, wanting to be careful here and not piss her off. "But just to be sure, you do know I don't just hang around you 'cause I like your cooking, right? And I don't expect you to serve me and shit? I ain't Bowman. And we ain't even dating."

She presses the brew button on the coffee maker and turns to look at him again. She looks like she's trying to decide whether to be pissed off or not, and Raylan definitely does not want that to happen. 

"Honey," he starts, "I ain't trying to insult you, I just-"

She cuts him off by quickly closing the space between them in two steps and clasping him tightly around the neck. "I know, Raylan. Hush. Thank you."

Arlo chooses this moment to shamble into the room. He coughs out what might be a laugh and says, "You're barkin' up the wrong tree, little miss. Ain't you heard?" 

"Good morning, Mr. Givens," Ava says brightly, ignoring what he said, a practice Raylan highly approves of. "Why don't you sit down and have yourself a slice of that banana bread I brought?"

"Well, thank you darlin'," he says. "What you doing here, anyway, girl?"

"Ava's gonna come with us to Lexington," Raylan puts in. "So's I got someone civilized to talk to on the drive and I can refrain from killing you after spending four hours with you in the damn car."

They take Ava's car, an old Duster covered in primer that Bowman never got around to painting. Raylan makes a note to offer to do that for her some time. 

Arlo complains from the back seat about how he hates Lexington, how he hates the VA, how he hates sitting in the back seat, and how he hates the goddamn shame of having a faggot for a son. 

Ava turns to Raylan and says, "You want me to set him straight?"

Raylan shrugs and shakes his head. "Don't make no difference to him. In most people's heads, you can fuck a thousand girls, but touch one dick and you are 100% gay from then on. But I don't really care. It only makes a difference to me if it's someone who needs to know the difference."

Ava grins. "Like a girl you're trying to screw."

"Yeah, like that." Raylan grins too. He can't imagine how he got along before without someone to talk to about shit like that. Or about anything, really. 

Raylan takes Arlo into the hospital and signs him in for his appointment. He knows it's going to be awhile before they get in, so he tells Ava she can go do some shopping or whatever for the next hour, if she wants. 

Raylan sits with his father in the waiting room, and neither of them speaks for a long time. Raylan thinks about how he came to be here, what decisions he made in his life that put him in this situation. He could have let Helen move in all those years ago. Then she'd be the one dragging his evil old ass into the doctor. 

Or he could have left. He should have left, instead of hanging on to the dream of a boy who couldn't have come back for him. Raylan should have known that. He should have looked out for himself. And now, the boy is back, and he says he wants him. But why? Raylan can't imagine what someone like Boyd could want with someone like him. Raylan is sure he could only drag him down. 

"Boy, where is your mama?"

Raylan is startled out of his thoughts by Arlo speaking to him, and it takes a second for him to register the strangeness of the question. 

"What was that?" he asks.

"Where's your mama? She ought to be here with me, not saddle me with your worthless ass and go runnin' off somewheres."

Raylan stares at him, then says, "Arlo? My mother died 15 years ago. And you ain't saddled with me, it's the other way 'round."

"What you talkin' about, boy? I ought to smack that smart mouth a yours. Just seen the bitch not ten minutes ago, waltzin' out the damn door, probly off to spend my money."

Raylan sighs angrily. "Shut up, Arlo," he says. "Just shut the fuck up. I will kick your old ass if I have to."

"You think a faggot like you can beat down a real man?" 

Raylan laughs, despite himself, and replies, "Okay, so _that_ you remember. Great."

The nurse finally calls Arlo in to check his stats, and after what seems like an eternity, the doctor calls Raylan back to speak to him. He asks about Arlo's memory, his lucidity. Raylan tells him about what just happened in the waiting room, and then about the confusion after Bowman's death. 

Arlo ends up with a few prescriptions, and Raylan is asked to track any strange behavior. He says he'll sure try to do that. Ava is in the waiting room when they come back out, and he says, "Let's go, woman, I ain't got all damn day." 

Raylan is pretty sure he's talking to Frances in that moment, but Ava just says, "Well, I'm sure this has been a tiring morning for you, Arlo. Bless your heart." Raylan cuts his eyes at her and suppresses a grin. 

Arlo seems strangely subdued for most of the drive, and when they get back to the house, he marches in without a word and slams the door.

Raylan and Ava make a habit of watching all of Boyd's appearances together. 

Sean Hannity introduces Boyd as the "recently outed, openly gay Republican Senator from Alabama," and his first question is to ask if he believes that the Republican Party will still embrace him after the "scandal."

Boyd smiles that blinding smile at him and says, "Sean, I still believe in my party. I know that there are many good men and women who are just as ready to stand up for the civil rights of all Americans as they are for the second amendment and a thriving capitalist economy."

Raylan is irritated from start to finish, from Hannity's claim that Boyd was "outed," to getting his sexual identity wrong, to calling it a scandal. He is also irritated with the answers Boyd gives, and that's mostly that's because he disagrees with his stated positions about almost everything, but also because he feels like Boyd lets that smug asshole get away with far too much. 

Raylan can't shut the hell up, and finally Ava asks him why he doesn't just call Boyd, and give him shit if he's so pissed off, because she's frankly tired of hearing it. Raylan thinks that's an excellent idea, and he when he gets home, he leaves a long voicemail about it on Boyd's phone. 

When Boyd calls back, he says, "Oh, Raylan, it was so wonderful to hear your voice."

"What are you talking about? I'm mad at you, Boyd. What was that bullshit you were spouting about clean coal, what a load of-"

"Raylan," Boyd cuts in smoothly, "I heard the message. Your dissent is duly noted. And I truly do not give a shit." 

Raylan can hear him smiling through the phone. He can practically see it, and his stomach turns over. Shit. It's possible he has it bad, in a way he hasn't experienced in quite a long time.

"You don't, huh?" Raylan asks, aiming for nonchalance.

"I do not. All I cared about was that you called me. I wasn't sure if you would. I want to see you, Raylan. Will you come visit me? Soon?"

"Yeah," Raylan answers, before he can take a second to think about it. "I ain't got nothing going on right now, as you might imagine. I can ask Ava to look in on Arlo. She'll be thrilled to, if she knows I'm going to see you."

"Can I ask what the situation there entails, Raylan? Just so I know where I stand."

Raylan laughs a little and says, "Hell if I know. We did fuck one time, the day before you and me... went for that hike. Not since then, but... it's weird. We been seeing a lot of each other, and its like a friend thing, but also feels like we could get naked at any minute."

"I see," Boyd says, and Raylan can't read his tone. Disappointed, maybe, but trying not to be.

"Boyd, she's also real invested in you and me getting together. I don't honestly know what that's all about, but it's like she's taken us on as a personal project."

"Is that so?" The smile is back, and Raylan smiles too, an involuntary response. Good lord. "Got any theories as to why?"

"Seems she's been thinking about it a long time. Johnny told her... well, you remember we saw him running out of that glen, that night?"

"Yeah, I remember. He told me about it the next day, he saw us making out or something. I swore him to secrecy. Guess he broke his promise." 

"Nah, don't be pissed at Johnny. He got drunk and told Ava one time, years back. I get it, Boyd, it's a big secret to keep. And he made a good choice. Him and her are the only people on my side in this town, so please, let it go."

"Alright," Boyd replies, "So he told her, and what? Why does that translate to her wanting us to screw?"

Raylan laughs and says, "I think it gets her hot, thinking about it."

Boyd is silent for a few seconds, then he says, "I see. Well, that's... certainly something to keep in mind, wouldn't you say?"

"I would."

Boyd's next interview is with Rachel Maddow, and Raylan is looking forward to that one. Boyd calls him after they tape it, and tells him to enjoy it, as it may be the only time he ever gets to see a woman put him in his place. 

Raylan jokes that Ava might have something to say about that. Then it turns into something more than a joke, and by the time they get off the phone, Raylan has to go jerk off in the shower.

He and Ava watch the interview, and sure enough, she does manage to make him squirm a little. She confronts him with several of the many awful things he's said over the course of his career, and makes him answer for each one. All he can really do is apologize, over and over, until she's ready to move on. 

Raylan thinks she's actually doing him a favor, though, allowing him the chance to grovel a bit. It's really the only way through this. Plus it's goddamn entertaining, until she brings up Boyd's friend. The one who was so furious that it helped bring about this change of heart. 

Boyd says, "Rachel, I owe him a great debt. One might think an absence of twenty years would diminish a person's feelings, but it's just the opposite. I won't let more time go by without having him in my life. Whether it's simply as a friend - as he always was - or as more than that, I can't say."

Ava's looking at Raylan while this is happening. He can feel her gaze heating up the side of his face, and he struggles to keep his face neutral. 

Maddow tells him that they've done some research on this man, and that there is some information about him being involved in criminal activity, possibly involving the family Boyd has spent so many years distancing himself from. 

Boyd's face turns hard then, and he says, "He has never been convicted of anything, and I have no such knowledge. When you come from a place like we do, and you're born into a certain type of family, there is always talk. People make assumptions, and frankly I feel it's discriminatory. People might have said the same of me, had I stayed a few years longer."

He continues in that vein, speaking of the fiercely independent streak of the Appalachian people, and somehow manages to turn that into the beginnings of a diatribe against big government, which she manages to cut off before it gets too far. 

When the show is over, Ava clicks off the TV and looks at him. "Raylan," she says, "you can't mess around with him. You need to get it figured out, because you heard him. He-"

"I know. I already knew. He wants me to come see him." 

She smiles tentatively at him and asks, "Well, what did you say, honey?"

Raylan laughs into his hands, and he's only laughing at himself. "I said yeah. Like right away, not even thinking about it first. I don't know what's gotten into me, Ava, I truly do not know."

She pulls him in closer next to her and wraps her arm around his chest in a kind of hug. "Yes you do, fool boy."

He doesn't want to admit that, doesn't want to think about it anymore either, so instead he leans down to kiss her, and runs his hand up to cup her breast. She breathes in deep and then pushes him back. 

"No," she says, "we're not going to do that. You're not using me to avoid thinking about him."

"Ava-"

"No, Raylan." She doesn't seem angry, and she's not pushing him away completely, but she's definitely not letting him get any closer. "We're friends, right?" she asks, looking at him directly.

"Yeah, of course we are," he says, frowning. 

"I'd like to keep it that way. I ain't saying I don't want you, or that we can't ever do that again, but first you gotta work things out with Boyd. The last thing I would ever want to do is get in the middle of something that old, and that big. It won't be good for me. It'll just end up hurting me, and I been hurt enough."

That hits Raylan fairly hard. He hadn't been considering her feelings at all in this. He hadn't imagined she really had any for him, beyond their friendship and her apparent fascination with him and Boyd. 

She must see all that on his face, because she smiles at him. "Raylan, I'm telling you this because I _haven't_ been hurt by it yet. I'm fine. I know how you are, and I never expected more from you, but I can see what's happening with Boyd. I won't get in the way."

"I never meant to-"

"God, will you stop?" She's frustrated with him, and he gets it. "Stop feeling guilty about every damn thing. I know where it comes from, honey, but you got to let it go."

Raylan's looking up at her from under furrowed brows, and he knows she means well, but she doesn't understand any better than anyone else. 

"Raylan," she says softly, "when I asked you if you loved him back then, you said you didn't know. That you never thought of it like that. That wasn't really true, was it?"

He sighs, and he knows he's going to let another one of his secrets go. They all seem to be abandoning him in recent weeks, and he's glad of it. They were far too heavy to keep lugging around. 

"No," he says, "It wasn't true. I loved him. So much, I didn't know..." He trails off and she pulls his head down to her chest. She strokes his hair and he squeezes his eyes shut to stop himself from crying for that boy, for those boys. They're long gone now, there's no point, and the men who have taken their place probably don't deserve his tears. 

After some time, she pulls his head up and looks into his eyes, which are probably red, and she says, "You go and see him. You need to tell him all that, and whatever else is in your head about it that you don't want to say to me. It might be hard for him to hear, on account of regrets he might have, but you gotta say it anyway. You can't have anything now unless you clear up the past first."

He nods, and asks, "You think you could look in on the old man while I'm gone? I don't want him burning down the damn house before I can inherit it."

"Of course. Long as you promise you'll actually talk to him and not just screw the whole time." 

When she starts to get a faraway look in her eye, Raylan thinks it's time to go. He tells her he'll be in touch about the dates he's going to be gone for, kisses her goodbye, and drives home. 

He calls Boyd when he gets there, even though it's late. 

"Hey, Raylan," he says, his voice rough with sleep. 

"Sounds like I woke you. Sorry about that, I can call tomorrow."

"Nope," Boyd replies. "Rather talk to you than sleep anytime."

"The Maddow show was as good as you promised," Raylan says, smiling.

"She did rake me over the coals a bit, but nothing I didn't deserve. I didn't know she was going to mention you, though, I do apologize for that. I hope you weren't in the bar."

Raylan laughs and says, "Johnny ain't in the habit of tuning into MSNBC. I was at Ava's. She liked it too."

"Raylan, I'll be home in Birmingham for a three-day weekend, two weeks from now. Will you come?"

"Yes."

"That's it? Yes? No, 'I don't know,' or 'I ain't sure I can'?"

"What do you think, Boyd? That I want to play games with you? That's the last thing I would do. I got... we got things to talk about, alright?" 

Raylan cannot account for how uneasy he feels at this moment. His stomach is a mess, and he almost feels like changing his mind right there. He can't, though. Ava was right, they need to figure it out. 

There's also the fact of how much he wants to put his hands on the man again. He reaches up to massage his neck, but the tension seems set so deep that he could never reach it.

"Alright, Raylan," Boyd says, and his voice echoes Raylan's own anxiousness. It feels like there's too much riding on this one weekend. "I'm very much looking forward to seeing you."

"I'm looking forward to doing more than that," Raylan says in an attempt to change the tone of their conversation. 

"Oh, Raylan," Boyd sighs, "you can't even imagine."


	5. Chapter 5: The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan visits Boyd in Birmingham and gets a taste of what his life is like now.

When Raylan arrives at the address he was given in Birmingham, Alabama, Boyd greets him at the door.

"Raylan," he says, broad smile in place, reaching for him already. "I've missed you all over again. It's so good to see you."

Raylan doesn't answer, just lets himself be drawn in. Boyd kisses him, unrelenting and impatient. He drops his bag and reaches out too, not willing to stop or slow down. 

"Okay, Boyd," he murmurs between kisses, "Okay..."

"Yes, it's okay now," he replies, pulling him further into the house. It's a nice place, but Raylan doesn't have time to look around, because Boyd is tugging at his hand, leading him upstairs. He turns to kiss him again once they get to the second floor, and says, "I've been imagining you being here longer than you know. But I never thought it could happen."

 _Jesus._ Raylan doesn't have a chance to unpack that statement, though, because Boyd is pushing him up against the wall and rucking up his shirt to get at his skin. He can't think straight. All he wants to do is get Boyd on a bed and fuck him until he can't talk anymore.

They're undressing as they go, and Boyd finishes first because he wasn't wearing any shoes in the first place. He sits naked on the edge of the bed and watches Raylan kick his jeans from his ankle over to the other side of the room. 

Then Raylan is on top of him, pushing his legs back and grasping at his cock, stroking it like it somehow might need more encouragement. He hasn't asked permission, and he doesn't think he wants to. He wants to just take it. 

"Raylan, are you gonna-"

"Yes. Okay?"

"I never..." He shakes his head like it doesn't matter. "Yes, okay."

Raylan already knew he'd never, but that's alright. He's going to make it good for him, and he tells him so. He's going to make it so good, he promises, and Boyd's going to like it.

"I know," Boyd says, and gives himself up to Raylan's hands and mouth.

Boyd isn't talking now, but he communicates with sharp breaths and fingers in Raylan's hair, and later with grunts and almost pained-sounding, open-mouthed moans. 

Raylan wants him to ask for it. He sucks him while he has his hand up inside, backing off when it seems like he's getting close, then starting again. 

"Damn, Raylan," he says finally, "What in God's name are you trying to do to me?"

Raylan grins. "What God is that, Boyd?"

"Shut up, Raylan."

"Unitarian, maybe," he says, then licks hard up the side of Boyd's cock. "Do they actually believe in God?"

"Honest to G-" Boyd starts, then huffs a sigh of irritation. "Are you going to fuck me, or what? I can't take any more of this edging shit, Raylan."

Raylan raises his eyebrows at him and Boyd says, "What? I'm not entirely ignorant. I have actually had sex with people. And I read."

Raylan grins and pulls his fingers free. "Alright, Boyd. I will go ahead and fuck you if that's what you want. Is it?"

"Raylan."

"What exactly would you like me to do? This being your first time and all, I feel I must frequently obtain consent, so as to make you feel safe and-"

Boyd grabs a handful of his hair and says, "I can and will kick your ass, Raylan."

"I doubt that, Senator," Raylan says in a low voice, "but all you gotta do is ask me for what you fuckin' want, and you'll get it." 

"I did ask you."

"No, you told me. Ask, Boyd. Ask me nicely."

Boyd loosens his grasp on Raylan's hair and strokes his fingers through it. "Alright," he says softly, "if you like. Please, Raylan. I want you to give me what I've been wanting for so long. I want you to put your cock in me and take me. I want you to fuck me now. Please." 

Raylan blows out a little puff of air and comes up beside him for a moment. Boyd wraps his fingers around his dick and strokes him while they kiss, then whispers, "Please don't make me wait no more." 

He suddenly sounds like the boy he once was, and Raylan groans, his mind not completely in the present day now.

Raylan pushes in carefully, his eyes fixed on Boyd's, making sure he's doing okay. He fucks him, going slow and easy, and finally lets his eyes drift shut. He can hear the things Boyd is saying to him now, the sounds coming out of his mouth, but his mind is playing him a steady stream of words and images he thought he'd mostly forgotten. 

They'd been at Audrey's, drinking up some of their pay, and Boyd was talking about the Army. Raylan hadn't really wanted to hear it, and it kind of hurt him that Boyd was so excited about it, though he understood. Wanting out of Harlan was something he understood well. 

A bunch of people they knew were there that night. Johnny had come with the idea of buying a girl, though he hadn't yet worked up the nerve to ask by the time Raylan and Boyd decided to leave. 

"You seem a little tired, Raylan," Boyd said as they walked out to the parking lot. "You want me to drop you at your truck?"

Raylan turned to look at him, and he felt helpless. How could Boyd look at him like he did, and not know? His eyes looked like they could see straight through him. 

"I guess," he replied. "I ain't tired, though. I'm just..." He took a deep breath. "You know, I'm gonna miss you." Once he said it, he knew it sounded too honest, too raw. "I'll have to start drinking with Dickie Bennett," he jokes, trying to walk it back some. 

Boyd was still looking at him, but turned away when they got to his truck. They got in, but Boyd didn't start the engine right away. He was holding the steering wheel and looking straight down. He didn't look at Raylan as he spoke, but what he said was the bravest thing Raylan had ever heard. 

"Raylan, I don't know how you're going to react to what I'm about to say. All I can do is hope that you'll believe me when I say I don't expect anything from you, and I would never ask for what you don't want to offer."

Raylan stared at him, barely breathing. He would have liked to reassure him, but he didn't trust his voice to work properly. He nodded, though, he did do that.

"I have feelings for you," Boyd said, and there it was. 

Raylan waited for more, but nothing else came. He licked his lips and finally asked, "What- what kind of feelings, Boyd?" 

"Raylan, you know damn well there is only one kind of feelings that you mean when you say you have feelings. Don't humiliate me, alright? I just had to tell you, because I'm leaving, and I thought you should know. I don't even know why, I just..."

"Boyd," Raylan sort of croaked. Boyd closed his mouth and looked up. "I have..." Raylan couldn't quite bring himself to say the words, so instead he leaned in and pressed his lips to Boyd's.

Boyd clutched at his arm to pull him closer, and it turned into a real kiss, hot and wet. "Oh," Boyd whispered, "I thought so."

Raylan reached to put his hand on Boyd's hip, but Boyd held him back. "Not here. We can go..." He thought for a minute, then drove them a short distance and parked the car in a clearing behind the girls' trailers. Raylan thought they should probably go farther away, but he didn't want to wait any longer either. 

As soon as they were stopped, Boyd closed the distance between them on the bench seat, and was on top of him. Raylan could feel Boyd's dick pushing into his stomach, and that not-so-little detail made everything seem very real, all of a sudden. 

"Damn, boy," he said, laughing a little nervously. "What you packin'?" 

Boyd just laughed, low and happy, and pressed in tighter. Raylan held him by the waist and stuck his face in Boyd's hair to muffle the sounds he couldn't hold back. Boyd lowered his head to suck on his neck, and Raylan shuddered violently. "Shit," he said, "Do that again."

Boyd did, and Raylan forced his hand in between them, reaching for Boyd's fly. It took him awhile to struggle it open, the process hindered by Boyd's rutting against his hand, and Raylan's involuntary trembling. By the time he did, they were both completely undone. 

When Raylan touched him, Boyd gasped, "Oh- oh God, no, I-" He jerked back, and Raylan felt the warm wetness under his hand. He slid it up and down a few times, hitching into Boyd's thigh, and groaning as his own orgasm hit him. 

They rested a minute without moving, and what Boyd said to him then is what comes back to him now, in Boyd's bed in Birmingham, in a different lifetime. He'd said, "I wish you could be mine, Raylan," and he'd sounded so sad.

Raylan opens his eyes to see Boyd under him, staring back like he still can't quite believe what's happening. Raylan puts a hand to his stomach and moves faster, tells him he's going to come. 

Boyd blinks, then takes himself in hand and nods. They don't look away, and Raylan comes just before he does, trying desperately to see what's in front of him and not what's behind them. He almost succeeds. 

He moves off, and rolls away. He doesn't want Boyd to see his face, not until he has it under some kind of control, but Boyd is pulling at his shoulder. He won't let him be, and Raylan turns back around. 

Boyd looks unsure, but he smiles and says, "That was so good, Raylan. I knew it would be."

Raylan presses his mouth into a line, tries to smile, but fails miserably. 

"What's wrong?" Boyd asks, frowning now. 

Raylan doesn't want to say, but he thinks about Ava, and he knows what she said was right. He takes a breath and asks, "When did you know you weren't ever coming back?"

"Oh, Raylan." Boyd looks stricken, almost terrified. 

"Tell me. You owe me that, Boyd."

"I always knew," he sighs, "from the beginning. I had it all planned out, but I didn't know... I didn't expect you would really..."

"Shit." Boyd reaches for him, but he pushes him back. "You asshole. You still should have told me. We were supposed to be friends. You never even... You could have written me at least, later. You just let me rot there, Boyd. I didn't know anything!"

"What?" Boyd looks confused. "I wrote you three times and I never heard back once. I never told you, I know, but I didn't think there was any point by then. I thought you wanted to forget about it."

Raylan feels lightheaded, possibly partly because he didn't stop to eat on the six hour drive and hadn't had a second to catch his breath before an intense session of fucking and remembering. Mostly, though, because he's no longer sure what the truth is about anything. 

"I never got any fucking letters, Boyd. What the hell did you supposedly say in them?"

"Oh no. Oh, Raylan, shit, I... " Boyd lies back and puts his hand on his forehead, thinking. "Nothing too revealing, I don't think. Just shit about what I was doing, and... that I missed you. Do you think Arlo got them?"

Raylan doesn't think so. He can't imagine Arlo having anything resembling proof of the suspicions he claimed he'd had, and not shoving it in his face. It could have been his mother, though it hurts him to think that she might have known, and kept it from him. He closes his eyes and says, "It doesn't matter now. I'm sorry you thought I didn't care."

"I didn't think that. I thought you were scared, like I was. I didn't want to push it. Maybe it's for the best, if I was too afraid to tell you." He tries again to touch him, and this time Raylan doesn't move away. He rolls towards him and leans his head into Boyd's chest. 

"Oh, I was scared," he says, and those tears he hadn't wanted to shed for those boys are suddenly threatening again, so close. "I thought if you were with me, maybe I wouldn't be so much."

Boyd pulls him in closer and reaches down to tug the top sheet over them. "But, you couldn't have been. You didn't keep lying to yourself, you saw other men."

Raylan breathes in deep and steadies himself with a long sigh. "That wasn't until later, Boyd. Years later. When I found I couldn't help it anymore. The first time I did that... Christ, I was terrified. Didn't have any idea what to expect. I went to Lexington and- but you don't want to hear about all that."

Boyd pulls Raylan's face up with a finger to his chin and looks at him with a wry smile. "Now I know you're not serious, son. I want every detail."

Raylan laughs softly and says, "Well, I don't know if I can manage that. But I'll tell you how it went, if you want. There was no one I could ask about where to go, so I had to go to the goddamn Borders and look through some queer tourist guide. _Out in Lexington_ or some shit. I had to hide in the back of the store, near the Bibles, to read it."

Boyd is cracking up and Raylan can't blame him. It's ridiculous to think about now. Still, Boyd doesn't have much of a leg to stand on, so he tells him, "Shut up, if you wanna hear it."

"So," he begins again, "I picked a bar and went to it, and I ordered a drink and just stood there lookin' around like an asshole, waiting for someone to come up to me."

Boyd grins and smooths a hand across his face. "I bet that took all of about five minutes."

"Almost," Raylan says with a slightly cocky smirk. He knows how pretty he was back in those days. Now he has to be to one doing the approaching, though he still has pretty good luck. "It was a guy about my age, but he seemed so much older. We went back to his apartment and I tried giving him head, but he just laughed at me and called me a country boy. He showed me a few things."

"Did he?" Boyd asks, and Raylan can hear the smile in his voice, but he can't see it because his face is nuzzled in the crook of his neck now. He hasn't talked about any of this in a long time, not since he gave up on trying to date men, and he finds it strangely embarrassing. He wouldn't have expected to.

"I wasn't any better than you were," Raylan says. "Maybe worse, because I was afraid of looking stupid. I didn't want him to think I was... exactly what I was, I guess. Some dumb, scared Harlan boy who didn't know what the fuck he was doing."

"Oh, well," Boyd says, "better than some middle-aged closet case right-wing politician clichè, huh?"

"You said it, not me," Raylan replies, and kisses him. "But now it's said, we can leave it. It's done, we can't change nothin'."

"I have so many regrets." 

"Yeah? Well, who doesn't? Listen, Boyd, I don't mean to change the subject, but I am fucking starving. You got food?"

Boyd grins. "I asked my housekeeper to stock the fridge before she left. Let's go see what we can find," he says. 

Raylan rolls his eyes, but he can't deny that some part of him thinks it's outstanding that Boyd Crowder has a goddamn housekeeper.

They stay in and eat, then drink a good deal of bourbon and tell each other stories of their time apart. When it's getting very late, Boyd tells Raylan about a party he went to in DC one time, back when he was only 29 and still in the House, where he was propositioned by no less than three of his much older colleagues in the space of an hour and a half.

"Let me guess. They were all married, ultra-conservative and religious."

Boyd gives him a haughty look and says, "I'll have you know that one of them was a moderate." He grins and Raylan bursts out laughing. 

"Do you think they could tell, Raylan?" Boyd is frowning, but not like he's upset. He just looks perplexed.

"I don't know," Raylan says, pursing up his mouth and giving him a more critical once-over than he normally would. "Maybe. You always look kinda... like you're hiding something."

Boyd laughs and says, "Well, maybe that's 'cause I always was, and the look just stuck."

Then they're just sitting there grinning like idiots at each other, until finally Raylan reaches out for him across the sofa and pulls him in, lifting his legs onto the sofa and stretching out. Boyd kisses him a few times, then kneels up and starts undoing Raylan's pants. 

Raylan starts to say something, tell him he doesn't need to, or that maybe they should move it upstairs, but he gets a look at the determined face Boyd's making, and shuts his mouth. That face on Boyd Crowder, in Raylan's experience, anyway, has always meant something either very good, or very bad is about to happen. 

He's already half hard from Boyd being on top of him and kissing him, and when Boyd runs his thumb up the underside and over the head, he gasps and it stiffens up more. 

Boyd glances up at him, then slowly lowers his head over Raylan's cock, sliding it into his mouth carefully and smoothly. He swallows, like Raylan told him to the last time, then pulls up, pushes down, rubs him with his tongue. 

This is so much better that Raylan has to wonder if he'd spent the last few weeks blowing guys. Absurdly, the thought gives him a little pang of jealousy; it runs up his spine like a thrill, and he twists his hand in Boyd's hair as if he can take possession of him somehow. 

Boyd has to take a breather at one point, but he keeps his hand moving on him and looks up at him with that piercing gaze. Raylan waits a few seconds, then nudges his head back in the direction of his dick. 

Boyd takes him back in all at once, and it's good. Real good, even when Boyd tries to take him deep and chokes a bit. Raylan warns him when he's about to come, but Boyd stays with it, keeps it in and manages to swallow most of it. 

Raylan pulls him up and kisses him, then reaches down between his legs. He's so hard, Raylan's not sure he's going to last long enough to get his dick out of his pants. But he does, and Raylan licks the palm of his hand before grasping it and stroking him quickly until he comes, humming into Raylan's mouth.

"That was some good head, Boyd," Raylan says into his neck as they lay tangled on the sofa. "How'd you improve so quick?" Then he curses himself because he heard exactly what he sounded like.

Boyd leans down so he can look at Raylan's face, which is now closed down. "Raylan?" A gleeful smile is spreading slowly across his face. "Everything okay?"

"Of course it is. What are you talking about? All I said was the blow job was good."

"Well, thank you. I wanted it to be good for you. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

"You did, Boyd," he says, feeling guilty as well as jealous now. "But you did before, too. I don't mind if you learn on me, you know. I kinda like it."

Boyd laughs, and Raylan shoots him an irritated look. "What's so funny?"

"Are you jealous of all the boys I practiced on while you were back in Harlan?"

Raylan's expression darkens a bit. It's one thing for him to do it, but he doesn't have to be a dick about it. He sits up and fixes his pants. "You can do what you like, Boyd. I got no say in it."

Boyd's smiling as he gets up and straightens himself out. "I need a shower, Raylan. Would you like to join me? It's a nice big one, two shower heads."

Raylan huffs a sigh through his nose and tries to rein himself in. Boyd didn't do anything wrong, and he has no right being pissed about it. Or hurt. Or jealous. "Yeah," he says. "Sure I will." 

They trudge upstairs, still half-drunk and heavy-limbed from the sex. Boyd gets the shower going, and he wasn't kidding about it being nice. Not only does it have two heads, it also has ones that jet out from the sides to get your back. It's the best fucking shower Raylan has ever been in, hands down, no fucking contest. 

When they're clean and dried off, they tuck themselves into bed and Boyd edges up to Raylan from behind. He wraps an arm around his chest and says, "Hey, Raylan?"

"What?" he mumbles, already on the way to sleep. 

"I didn't give any blow jobs to anyone since I left Harlan."

"But you said... But how did you... Well, it ain't my business anyway, Boyd." Raylan is all out of sorts. He hates feeling this way, but part of him - a very small, stunted part of him - is relieved that he's still able to.

"I just watched an instructional video and a bunch of oral sex porn on the Internet. And I paid attention to what you told me to do last time. I'm a fast learner, Raylan."

Raylan chuckles, both at Boyd and at himself for feeling relieved about it. "You're an asshole," he says affectionately.

"I know," he replies. "Thanks for getting jealous."

Raylan sighs. "You're welcome. I can't remember the last time I felt that way. Not sure I ever have."

Boyd squeezes him tighter, and doesn't roll away until some time after Raylan is asleep. 

Raylan wakes up to an empty bed and the smell of coffee. He pulls on sweatpants and a tank-style undershirt and walks down to the kitchen, but Boyd is nowhere to be found. There's a note beside the coffeepot, though, that says Boyd decided to walk to the bakery down the street, and would be back with pastries for both of them. 

Raylan rummages in the fridge and finds some orange juice, which he considers pouring himself a glass of, but ultimately shrugs and swigs from the carton. Boyd puts his dick in his mouth, he can deal with a few drops of saliva on his OJ. He fixes a cup of coffee and sits down to wait. 

He scratches at his head and yawns, and then he hears the doorbell. He has no idea what he should do, but he's pretty sure it doesn't involve answering the door. It could be a reporter, for one thing. Boyd's been all over the damn news. 

Then he thinks, it could be Boyd, maybe he forgot to take his keys. He's about to go and check, when he hears a key turning in the lock. He gets up to lean in the kitchen doorway, figuring it's Boyd with the pastries, and now he's hungry. He grins his sexiest sleepy grin - at least, that's what he's been told - and moments later comes face to face with a woman he has never met, yet whose face he is very familiar with. 

Theresa Crowder, or whatever her name might be now, is looking at him like he not only smells bad, but like he he also just called her mother a whore. And he knows he smells just fine, because he took a shower right before bed. He wishes he could be in that wonderful shower right now, instead of in a stare-down with Boyd's ex-wife. 

"Um. Hello," Raylan says. Brilliant. "I'm-," he starts, holding out his hand, but her upper lip curls and she says, "I'm certain that I do not need to know your name." 

She speaks with a practiced standard-American accent, as if she's going to anchor a news broadcast. He wonders what her real accent sounds like; he's unfamiliar with hick upstate New York dialects.

"Alright, then," he says, taking his cup of coffee back to the table. "Boyd should be back in a few," he calls.

He finished his cup and pours another, if for no other reason than to have something to do while he waits for Boyd to come and deal with this situation. What the fuck is she doing with a key to Boyd's place? What's wrong with him?

About ten minutes later, Raylan hears him come in. He's able to make out most of the conversation in the living room. 

Boyd starts to say something, ask her what she's doing in the house, maybe, which is definitely what Raylan would want to know. It's hard to tell, because she interrupts him before he gets two words in. 

She has a surprisingly lovely voice, a smooth alto, mature and intelligent, that does not match the crazy shit that's coming out of her mouth, at all. 

She's not quite yelling at first, but it's easy to hear that she's on her way. "What the hell do you think you're doing? People are paying attention to what you're up to now, you know that."

"So?" Boyd asks, unaccountably sounding defensive. "What are they going to find out that I didn't already tell them?"

She makes an incredulous noise and answers, "It doesn't matter what they _know_ , Boyd, they're still going to act like it's news when they can actually _see_ it. And besides that- who the hell is that guy? Are you paying him?"

Raylan's eyebrows go up and he gets a small, pleased smile on his face. It's been awhile since he's considered himself young or hot enough to be mistaken for a hustler. 

"Are you crazy, Theresa? How dumb and desperate do you think I am?"

"Well, how should I know?" she replies, her tone getting meaner and her voice not sounding quite so pretty now. "He looks pretty damned low-class to me. That undershirt looks like something my father would have worn. And you're trusting him in the house by himself?" 

She's starting to ramp up now, her voice pitching higher. "I think you're so wrapped up in your new _lifestyle_ that you're not using your brain. He could have robbed you blind! How long could you have possibly known this man?"

She's already starting to say something else when Boyd's quiet, but carrying, reply comes. He says, "All my life," and she cuts off immediately. 

There's silence for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice is back in it's normal register. "What are you talking about, all your life? I've never met this man."

"That's Raylan."

There's more silence, and Raylan wonders what in the hell he could have told her about him that would elicit such a response. 

"Raylan," she says, as if confirming what he'd said. "Your best friend, from _Harlan_."

"Yes, that's right."

"So he's the one you were talking about in that horrifying speech, where you humiliated me in front of the entire world." She sounds brittle now, like she's on the verge of very unpleasant laughter. 

"This is my life, Terri," he says, his tone begging her to understand him. Why he cares, Raylan has no idea. This woman is awful. "I couldn't live it like that anymore. I tried to be honest with you. I didn't want to lose you. We could still be together if you hadn't jumped to all the wrong conc-"

"Wrong! The wrong conclusions! You mean like the ones that led me to imagine a half-dressed man drinking coffee in our kitchen? I don't even want to say what the other conclusions were, but if he spent the night, I'm fairly sure those weren't too far off the mark either."

"I only wanted you to know. I wasn't asking to-"

"That's how it starts, Boyd," she says, sounding close to tears now. "You think I don't know about this? You think I don't know how this goes? First you tell me you're bi, then you tell me you can't deny that part of yourself anymore, then you tell me, 'Oops! Sorry darlin', I made a mistake, guess I'm gay after all.' Or else you get _caught._ You pull a Mark Foley, and your name turns into a big joke. Like it is now."

"You're wrong about me," he says, but he sounds defeated. "But I have made mistakes, I know I have. I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you from the start. And with... everyone else."

"The only good thing about our marriage is that we never had children together, and they don't have to live with this shame." 

Raylan's eyes widen at that, and he wants to go out there, push her out the door. Who the hell does she think she is, anyway? They ain't even married anymore. He knows it will only make the situation worse if she has to see him again, though, so he stays put, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Why did you come here, Theresa? What do you need?" Raylan cannot believe he's asking her that.

"Need? I need nothing from you. I came to tell you that Graham is planning to resign. He's going to call you later, but I wanted to see the look on your face when you heard. Very satisfying. I'll go now."

The door opens and closes, but Boyd doesn't come into the kitchen right away. Raylan goes to the doorway and looks down the short hallway to the front door. Boyd is standing next to it, his head leaning against the frame, holding a white paper bag. 

Raylan walks over and takes the bag from him, sets it down on the floor. He puts his hands on Boyd's waist and pulls him close, and Boyd lays his head on his shoulder. 

"She hates me so much," he says. "She used to tell me I was the best thing that ever happened to her."

Raylan hasn't been in a lot of relationships, but he does know that talking shit about your boyfriend's ex only makes you look like the asshole. He says, "Boyd, you probably were. I'm sure someday she'll figure that out, when she ain't so pissed anymore. She won't hate you forever."

Boyd sighs and buries his face in Raylan's neck like he can disappear there. 

"Uh... Boyd? Can I ask why on earth you let her keep a key to your house?"

Boyd's voice is muffled because he doesn't move it from Raylan's neck and shoulder, but he says, "I'm in DC a lot, so she uses the place when I'm out of town sometimes. She and her husband have a big spread out in the country, horses and all that shit, so she uses this like a... pied a terre, I guess you'd call it."

"Maybe you would," Raylan says, trying to make him smile. It doesn't work. "So she still owns half the house, or what?"

"Oh, no. I bought her out in the settlement."

Raylan doesn't speak for a few seconds. He's not sure what his place is, with this, but he's pissed anyway, and he's going to say so, even if it's none of his business.

"So you let her come and go as she pleases, in your own home, and when she finds something here that she don't like, she loses her shit on you? Boyd... that just ain't right. You gotta know that."

Boyd looks up at him now and gives him a little smile, but it's sad. "Raylan, you must have heard what she said. That's not coming from left field. What she said, that's happened to women she knows. I get why she left me, it makes complete sense to me."

Raylan gives it a few seconds thought, and he finds that he does get it. She probably saw the whole excruciating drama play out in her mind, and made the sensible decision to cut bait. But none of that excuses what she's doing to him now.

He holds Boyd by the shoulders and looks him in the eye. "Why does that give her the right to treat you like shit? She made a judgement call that's maybe not hard to understand, and you were less than honest with her in the beginning, but that doesn't mean she gets to torture you about it forever." 

Boyd starts to shake his head, but Raylan keeps talking. "You're divorced," he says, "and one of the perks of that is supposed to be that you don't have to see your ex no more if you don't want to. Do you really want to?"

Boyd looks down. "I did, I guess. For awhile. It felt... strange, uncomfortable not having her around. We'd been together a long time, she was like an extra limb or something."

"Okay, Boyd." Raylan takes his face into his hands and kisses him very gently on the mouth. "I know you'll get it figured out. Now, what kind of pastry did you get me?"

"You're not mad at me?" He sounds surprised.

"No," he says, not quite smiling, just looking at him as honestly as he can. "Not at you. But I am hungry. Come on." He picks up the bag and peeks inside. "Is that apple turnover for me?"

Boyd does smile now and replies, "If you want it." He pauses a second, then says, "I'm sorry she thought you were a prostitute."

Raylan grins and says, "Are you kidding? That made my week."

Boyd's looking at him funny now, and he bugs his eyes out in a question. Boyd says, "Your hair, Raylan. It's... messy." 

"Uh... sorry?"

"It's the sexiest thing I believe I've ever seen."

"Hmmm," Raylan says, grinning, "Hold that thought 'til after breakfast, okay?"

When they're seated and Boyd has a cup of coffee in front of him, Raylan asks, "So who's Graham? Why did she want to tell you he's resigning?"

Boyd's face falls flat, and he says, "Oh. Yeah. Well, that's not such good news, as you might have guessed. Graham Carter, my campaign manager. I already knew, though, I got a text from one of my staff about it early this morning. I'll have to find someone else quick, I suppose."

Raylan makes a face, but keeps quiet and eats his turnover. 

"I know what you're thinking, Raylan. But I'm not abandoning this campaign. That just makes me look like I'm ashamed, like this actually was a scandal. Which... speaking of that..." He goes to the living room and retrieves a newspaper, hands it to Raylan with an apprehensive look. "You might as well know now."

There is a front page article about Boyd in the Birmingham News, which Raylan guesses is not too surprising. As he reads, his mouth falls open and he puts down his food. The article is not just about Boyd, but also his family, and Raylan, and Ava. There is not-so-subtle innuendo throughout the entire thing, speculating on the reasons the three of them might have been at Ava's house the night of the shooting. 

It would have been easy for investigators to figure out who Raylan is, just by talking to people in Harlan. Even if there had been doubt, his presence on the night of the shooting would have sealed the deal in most people's minds. They even talked to Hunter Mosley, who told them how distraught Raylan had been after the shooting. They spoke with women he'd dated briefly, as well. 

"So now it really is a scandal," Raylan says when he's finished. "They seem to think we all got caught fuckin' or something, and maybe that's why I shot that asshole."

"They're just looking for an angle, Raylan," Boyd says, staring glumly into his coffee.

"Well, they sure as hell found one, didn't they?" 

"What do you want me to say, Raylan? I can't help it. I can't change who my fucking family is, and I can't change any of the things I've done to make it a front page story. I'm- I'm going to call Ava and apologize, alright? And I'm apologizing to you. I'm sorry, Raylan. Truly. But if you can't handle this shit, I suggest you get out now, because it's only going to get worse before it gets better, I promise you that."

"Boyd-" Raylan’s reaching across the table for his hand, but Boyd stands up quickly and goes to the sink. 

"I wanted to take you out to dinner last night, but I didn't because I knew there would be people taking our picture. And I don't care about that, Raylan, I _swear_ I don't, but I didn't want to put you through it. I know I came into town and fucked everything up for you. I didn't mean to do th-"

"Boyd!" Raylan is standing now and walking towards him. "Stop, for fuck's sake. You didn't fuck anything up for me. Or, well, you did, but it wasn't anything good. And I'm not going anywhere. I don't care if they take our picture either, Jesus Christ."

Boyd still doesn't look convinced, and Raylan can't imagine what can possibly say to change that. So he goes to him instead, pushes him back against the counter, and goes down on his knees for him. He shows him a few things, none of them learned from any goddamn internet instructions. 

After Boyd comes, he gets on his knees too and kisses Raylan. "I didn't have any right to expect any of this from you, Raylan. Not your understanding and acceptance, nor your presence in my life right now. Thank you."

"Boyd... Don't you understand that I ain't doing it as a favor? I couldn't say no to you if I dearly wanted to."

Boyd huffs and says, "You did a pretty good job of it that night at Ava's."

Raylan smiles and says, "I would have caved anyway, even if you hadn't got your ass shot. I'm sure you weren't about to give up."

"I'd already decided I was never going to give up. Once I saw you again... " Boyd trails off, and reaches out for him. "Well, anyway, you're here now. Want me to blow you in the shower?"

"Yes, please," Raylan says, already looking forward to getting back in there. 

Boyd has to spend a lot of time on the phone and online, dealing with his campaign business. By the end of the day, he has meetings set with three potential new managers for his campaign, and interviews for new staff to replace the ones he's sure will depart with Carter. 

Raylan goes for a walk to check out the neighborhood, then come back and watches some of the Criminal Minds marathon on some cable station. He makes a note to bring a book next time, if Boyd's going to be working the whole weekend.

At around 4, Boyd comes and flops down next to him on the couch. "I'm sorry, Raylan. I know this is no fun for you. I didn't realize all this shit was going down this weekend."

"You'll find a way to make it up to me, I'm sure."

"Well, the first thing I want to do is take you to dinner." He hands Raylan his laptop and tells him to check out the three restaurants he's opened the sites for and to pick one. "And don't even look at the prices, Raylan. I'm paying, and I won't brook any arguments on the subject."

Raylan looks at him sideways and says, "Wasn't planning to offer any." He looks quickly at each of the tabs, then laughs when he gets to the third one. "But I can tell you right now, I ain't going with you to any place called 'Hot and Hot.' Didn't you say there might be reporters following you? That's a headline right there."

"They have excellent seafood, Raylan, and anyway," Boyd says, grinning, "if the shoe fits..."

"This one looks good. Highlands Bar and Grill. Let's go there."

"Alright," Boyd says. "Let me make two more phone calls and we can go."

"Don't we need reservations?"

A small, smug smile appears on Boyd's face, and he says, "Already made them. You're not exactly one of the world's great mysteries, Raylan. Not to me, anyway."

Raylan rolls his eyes and tries not to look pleased. A thought occurs to him and he says, "Boyd, this place looks pretty nice. I didn't bring a jacket or nothing."

Boyd looks him over and replies, "I got something I think will work. You got a nice shirt?"

"Nice enough. No tie. I didn't even think about it."

In the end, Raylan is wearing his jeans and Boyd's shirt, tie and jacket. The jacket is a tiny bit tight across the shoulders and maybe a little short in the arms, but the overall effect looks pretty good to Raylan. And Boyd seems to agree, because he's looking at him like maybe he doesn't want to go to dinner after all. 

Boyd tilts his head to look at him, then laughs, and Raylan detects a slightly evil look in his eye. 

"What?" he asks, eyes narrowed.

"Hang on," Boyd answers, and Raylan does not like the sound of his voice at that moment. Boyd walks into the closet and comes back a moment later with a cowboy hat in his hand. It's an actual, no fucking around Stetson, and Boyd reaches up to put it on his head. 

Raylan dodges it and says, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"The governor of Texas himself gave me this when I visited after Katrina, when they were taking in all those storm refugees. Just put it on once, I want to see. Please?"

Raylan heaves a put-upon sigh and takes the hat from Boyd. He settles it, then resettles it on his head, and turns to look at himself in the full-length mirror. Actually, he thinks, not bad. 

"Oh, Raylan," Boyd says, in a tone that Raylan cannot mistake.

"I ain't wearing this to dinner," he says. "But maybe later," he adds, then mimes a quick draw at Boyd, who puts his hand to his chest like he's been vanquished. 

Raylan hands him back the hat, and they head out the door.

At the restaurant, the hostess greets them with a studiously blank, polite expression, but Raylan sees the grin start to creep onto her face as soon as she turns to lead them to their seat. 

Everyone is staring, and Raylan just keeps facing forward as they sit and pick up their menus. This is a little bit uncomfortable for him, but he can only imagine how it must be for Boyd. Then again, Boyd did out him on national television, so Raylan's sympathies only stretch so far. 

Boyd looks up with a very serious expression on his face and says, "So. Nice weather we've been having." Raylan laughs out loud, and Boyd breaks into a broad grin. 

The waiter comes to take their drink orders, glances at Raylan with raised eyebrows, then back to Boyd, who orders two glasses of Woodford Reserve. The waiter looks at Raylan again as if to make sure that's what he actually wants, and Raylan just gives him a bland smile and a tiny shrug. 

After the waiter leaves, Raylan asks, "You are gonna let me order my own food, right?" 

"Did that bother you? I didn't want you to order cheap whiskey just because I'm buying."

"You overestimate me, Boyd," Raylan says, smirking. 

The boy comes back with their drinks and pulls out his notepad. He looks at Raylan first with a condescending smile and says, "Did you have any questions about the menu?"

Raylan says, "No, I think I got it, thanks. I'll have the mixed grill."

The waiter smiles at him again like he's an adorable child, then looks at Boyd with a far different expression. "For you, sir?" he says, acid practically dripping from his tongue. 

Boyd stares at him, and for a second it seems like he's going to call him out for his attitude, but after a moment he just orders the venison and hands over his menu. 

"You just gonna let that go?" Raylan asks. 

Boyd sighs and says, "If the worst I get is a bitchy tone from some gay waiter, I believe I will count myself blessed."

Raylan smiles and sips at his drink. "I get the feeling he thinks I'm retarded."

"Only because you're willing to be seen in public with me, darlin'."

Raylan starts a bit at that term, and gives Boyd a surprised smile. Boyd smiles back and nudges his hand, which is wrapped around his glass. At that moment, light flashes in his peripheral vision, and when he looks over, a man is tapping furiously at his phone, a furtive grin on his face.

"Told you," Boyd says. 

Raylan is still smiling, and he looks over at the guy's table until he looks up again. Then he waves at him. 

Their food comes, and Raylan orders them another round of drinks. 

"Certainly," the young man says with exaggerated politeness, "I can't say I blame you." That last is said in almost a mutter, but designed to be heard. 

Raylan looks at Boyd to see if he wants to say something, but he stays quiet. When the drinks come, Raylan says, "Excuse me." 

The waiter and Boyd both look at him, and Boyd shoots him a pleading glance. Raylan continues, "What is your name, son?"

The waiter looks startled at being addressed in such a manner, but he says, "Kyle."

"Alright, Kyle," Raylan says, leaning back casually. "No one here is gonna deny that you got reasons to hate my friend here, and believe me, I would be the last person to suggest you vote for him, but I ain't gonna sit by and listen to you insult him. Where we come from, that just ain't done, and if you've figured out who I am, you must be familiar with the reputation I got back there."

Kyle's eyes are wide by the end of the little speech, and he says, "I apologize," before scurrying off to get their drinks.

Boyd looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or be pissed. "That'll be on the Internet by tomorrow," he says.

Raylan grins and replies, "Yep. Along with that picture."

The food is excellent, and they eat awhile before Boyd says, "So... I'm guessing you're not finding much in the way of work these days."

Raylan glances up at him sharply and asks, "Is that really something we're going to get into?"

Boyd shrugs and looks down at his plate. "Not in any great detail, Raylan, but I do feel responsible, in part."

"Ain't your fault what happened to Bowman, it's his. And it ain't your fault your daddy made such a stupid move - it's his. Now there's a power vacuum, and who the hell knows who's gonna step in to fill it."

"I know that, but it is my fault I exposed you the way I did. Are people avoiding you?"

Raylan thinks a moment, then says, "More like I'm avoiding them. I could possibly be making wrong assumptions about them, who knows."

"You said Johnny's on your side."

Raylan nods, "More or less. He don't really treat me any different than he ever did... of course, he's had twenty years to get used to the idea."

Boyd nods, but he looks distracted, and eats some more of his dinner. Eventually he asks, "What are you gonna do?"

Raylan presses his lips together and looks at him. He hadn't minded coming here and being treated by Boyd, but he suddenly feels at a disadvantage. "I'll figure it out," he says, his voice tight and his face shut down. 

"Raylan," Boyd says, frowning at him, "I'm not-"

Kyle appears at their table side, and Boyd snaps his mouth shut. The boy's face is now composed in a carefully courteous mask, and he says, "Would you like to see a dessert menu, gentlemen?"

Raylan says, "No, thank you," and glares at Boyd across the table. Boyd shakes his head and asks for the check. 

After he walks away, Boyd leans forward and says in a low voice, "You're being ridiculous. Why do you think I asked you? You think I'm trying to show you up?"

Raylan leans forward to and says, "I don't need you thinking of me as some kind of obligation, Boyd. I am a grown man, I can handle my own shit."

"You ain't acting like much of a grown man," Boyd says, and then laughs. "Shit, did I just say that?"

Raylan can't stop the grudging smile that creeps onto his face, and he says, "You got yourself all shined up real nice, but you know you can't fool me, Boyd. Why would you even try?"

Boyd sits back and looks at him helplessly, just as Kyle brings their check. He says, "Thank you for coming, gentlemen. And Senator, I'd like to apologize again for-"

Boyd waves his hand at him. "Please don't. I should be apologizing to you, but I fear it wouldn't begin to balance the books." He takes the check from him, and Kyle looks like he might be about to tear up. He leaves, and Boyd pulls out his wallet. 

"I've done bad things, Raylan. And said much worse." He takes several bills from his wallet and stuffs them into the check folder. 

Raylan glances at the total and says, "You're leaving a 50% tip."

"Yeah," he replies, "You think it's enough?"

Raylan smiles at him, then reaches into his own wallet and tosses in a five. "There, that's for fucking with him."

They get up to go, and run the gauntlet of curious, hostile and excited stares on the way to the door. As soon as they reach the sidewalk, there's a shout of, "Senator Crowder! Could I have a minute, Senator?" 

A young woman comes trotting up to them, and Boyd holds up a hand. He speaks politely, but firmly, and says, "If you'd like to call my office, I'd be happy to set up an interview, but I'm on my own time right now."

"Is it true that Graham Carter has resigned as your-"

"Really," Boyd says, "Not now." He mutters _Come on_ at Raylan and starts walking. 

She calls out, "Is this your boyfriend?" and Boyd stops short. 

He looks at Raylan and says, "What do you want me to say about that?"

Raylan looks at him, amused, and says, "I don't know, Boyd. Would you like me to be your boyfriend?"

Boyd stares at him for another couple beats, then turns to the reporter and says, "Yes."

"What's his name?"

Boyd waves and starts to walk again, but Raylan turns around and gives her the smile that one girl he dated had called a "panty-wetter." He says, "I'm Raylan Givens. Nice to meet you. But we're on a date, so we ain't gonna answer any more questions, alright?"

He catches up with Boyd and walks next to him, shoulders brushing. Boyd is grinning, but looking at the ground. "My goodness, Raylan. I should take you on the campaign trail with me."

"And help you get reelected? I don't think so," he replies, but he puts an arm around him, and Boyd leans his head into his arm for a second. 

Raylan's phone - a cheap disposable one that he only ever had because Bo had insisted on it - begins to ring. He looks at the readout, frowns, and picks it up. "Hey Ava. Everything okay?"

Raylan can hear the enormous grin that must be on her face when she replies, "Looks okay to me, honey. That looked like a fancy restaurant. He must have wanted to impress you."

"What are you... damn, you already saw that picture? That was like a half-hour ago. You got Boyd on a Google alert or something?"

"You bet I do. And you, too. You should see some of the things people are saying about you, Raylan. Hoo, boy. Or maybe you shouldn't, you already got a healthy amount of self-confidence, to say the least."

"Jesus Christ." Raylan is at a loss as to how to even begin to react to this shit.

"Is that Boyd's jacket? Never mind, I know it is, I've never seen you wear anything like that in your life. Goddamn, Raylan, you two could not possibly be any more adorable."

Raylan doesn't quite know what to do with her, but he laughs anyway, and tells her, "I wouldn't be too sure about that. You should have seen when Boyd put the cowboy hat on me."

Silence comes down the line, and after ten seconds or so, Raylan says, "Ava?"

"Yes, I heard you, Raylan. I just needed a minute to fully appreciate that image."

"I gotta go," he says. "Oh, but hang on - Boyd's got something he wanted to tell you." 

He holds the phone out to Boyd, who's frowning at him and shaking his head. Raylan nods at him and says, "Get it over with."

Boyd takes it from him and says, "Hello, sweetheart... " Raylan listens to his side of the conversation, but having spent a good deal of time with Ava recently, its not too hard to piece together the other half. 

"Yes," he's saying, "he's absolutely right, I do... Well, it seems the Birmingham paper did some investigative work... Oh, you did? Uh huh. Well, I just- yes, I know, that's... Well, Ava, darlin', I just want to apologize for that coming down on you the way it did... Oh. Well, alright, then. Well, I certainly will. Alright, you have a good night now. Bye."

He hands the phone back to Raylan and says, "She said she didn't care, and if she'd had her way, maybe the newspaper wouldn't have had to make so much of that shit up."

"That's our girl," Raylan says. 

The rest of the weekend passes quickly. Raylan drops Boyd at the airport, bound for National. Before Boyd gets out of the truck, he turns to Raylan and says, "I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful weekend. I'm going to miss you so much, Raylan."

Raylan leans over to kiss him and says, "Well, we're just gonna have to see each other soon, then."

"I'll come to you, next time, if that's alright."

"To Harlan?" Raylan is surprised Boyd would want to walk back into that.

"To you, Raylan. But yes, Harlan. It's home, I can't keep on denying that. You're my home, too. I love you, you know. I always have."

Raylan stares at him, hardly believing he would choose such a time to say this to him. It's fast, he knows that, but he's not surprised. They have old feelings between them. He takes Boyd's face in both his hands and kisses him softly. 

"Why did you wait 'til now to say that, Boyd?" His face is still very near to Boyd's as he speaks.

Boyd's eyes are closed, and he says, "I wanted a quick escape route, if need be."

"No need." He kisses him again. "I'll see you again real soon."

"I'll bring the hat with me," he says, smiling now. He gets out and grabs his bag from behind the seat, then waves and walks into the terminal. 

Raylan sets off back to Kentucky.


	6. Chapter 6: The Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd visits Harlan and they try an experiment.

Johnny calls Raylan two days after he gets back from seeing Boyd. He wants him to come to the bar, says he has something he wants to talk to him about. 

It has to happen eventually, and Raylan knows that the longer he puts it off, the weirder it's going to be. He shows up late, when the place is full swing. He figures he might as well just rip the bandage off all at once, let people say or do whatever they're going to. 

When he pushes through the door, he feels as if he should be wearing Boyd's cowboy hat, like he's a gunslinger entering a hostile saloon in the old west. People stare at him, and he has to assume that at least some of the muttering he hears is about him, but no one says anything directly. 

He finds a seat at the bar, and the spurned Tracy spies him right away this time. She has a fairly smug look on her face as she walks up and says, "Guess I should have known, huh?"

"That I'd like a double Jim Beam, little bit of ice? Probably, since it's what I always order, and you bein' such a professional member of the hospitality industry. 

She huffs and pours him the drink, then says, "You could have just told me instead of ignoring my calls, Raylan. That was just shitty."

He takes a drink and looks back at her, weighing his options. On one hand, if everyone thinks he's not into women, he may never get laid in town again. On the other hand, at least he'll be able to get a damn drink in a timely fashion again.

"Sorry, honey," he says, smiling apologetically. "You're absolutely right. Forgive me?"

She smiles back and pats his hand. "Sure I will. Maybe we can be friends. Talk about boys together," she says, winking. 

Before she can suggest a spa day, Raylan tells her he needs to talk to Johnny.

"He said you might be stopping in," she says. "Go on back."

Raylan takes his drink with him to the office in the back of the bar and knocks. 

"Yeah?" Johnny barks from inside. 

Raylan opens the door and leans in. "Hey, Johnny. You said to stop by, what's up?"

"Oh, hey. Come in and shut the door, Raylan."

Raylan does, and he pulls a chair up across the desk from him. Johnny looks uncomfortable, like he might be afraid Raylan's going to haul off and hit him when he says what he has to say. He can't imagine what it could be, unless he's going to ask him not to come into the bar anymore. But that makes no sense, because why would he call him to the bar to tell him to stay away.

Finally, Johnny says, "Listen, Raylan, I don't want to go into it too much, but I've decided to pick up some of the business Bo dropped when he went in. Not all, just the girls and the protection. I ain't got the stomach for dealing with the meth."

"And that concerns me how?"

"Well... you worked for Bo a long time. You know what's what. So I thought-"

"Wait." Raylan holds up his hand. "I ain't sure. I was sort of thinking about getting out. So don't tell me nothing you don't think I should know."

Johnny is shaking his head. "I ain't asking you to do what you did for Bo. But if I'm gonna be in this shit, I need someone keeping an eye on things in here. And maybe, once in awhile, I might need someone to teach a lesson to a john, if someone gets out of hand. I know you don't mind that kinda work." 

Raylan is staring at him, and he says, "So... you want me to be a bouncer and a part-time thug, is that what you're saying?"

"Something like that. I won't ask you to go any further than the occasional beat down."

Raylan frowns at him. "Bo's gonna be pissed, he finds out I'm working for you. Why would you pick that fight?"

Johnny looks shifty again, like he doesn't want to say, and that's when Raylan knows. _That asshole._

"No way, Johnny. And I'm gonna fucking strangle him."

"Calm down, Raylan. Jesus. Here," he says, pulling a bottle from the bottom desk drawer and setting it on the desk. "Help yourself." Johnny takes out a glass as well and pours himself some, then pushes it towards Raylan. 

Raylan pours a generous glass, but he's still shaking his head. "I told him I can handle this shit on my own."

Johnny takes a pull from his glass and nods. "Sure, Givens. What did you have in mind? Becoming a meth cook? Working at WalMart?" He leans forward with a challenging gleam in his eye. "Going back to the mine?"

"Fuck you, man."

"Listen, Raylan. He did call me. All he said was if I had anything, that I should think of you. I told him, I ain't seen him but once in twenty years, and I didn't need no employment recommendations from him. And I said, if I'm gonna do a favor for anyone, it's more likely to be you than him."

Raylan's glaring at him, though he knows Johnny didn't really do anything to deserve it. It's Boyd he's pissed at.

"So what did he say to that?" 

"He said, then I should do what I thought was best," Johnny replies, pouring some more bourbon into his glass. "And that's what I am doing. I know what you can do, I know you can be trusted, and if I can't deal with Bo, I might as well forget all of this."

The music from the bar is pounding through the floor, a hard-driving country rock beat. Raylan closes his eyes for half a minute, and when he opens them, his glass is full again. 

"You trying to get me drunk, Johnny?"

Johnny shrugs. "We ain't really done any serious drinking together since high school. Remember that party at Lynette Tompkins' house, her and Donny Keen were fucking on a lawn chair in the back yard?"

Raylan laughs despite himself and says, "And he got his foot stuck in between the plastic strips." 

Johnny is laughing too as he says, "They flipped over like a fucking beetle, him kicking at that thing like it's attacking him."

Boyd hadn't been there that night, it was just guys from the baseball team, and their girlfriends, and some friends of Lynette's. Raylan was already feeling like an outsider, like he didn't belong there, and that incident had just served to make him feel like an observer from another planet. Now, talking about it with Johnny after all this time, it feels different. 

They keep drinking. At one point, Tracy pokes her head in and asks Johnny if he can help at the bar, but he just tells her to get back to it and fucking handle it. 

"I get why you fucked her," Johnny says, laughing, "but did you just keep your dick in her mouth the whole time to keep her from saying the stupid shit she says? Because otherwise, I don't know how you managed."

Raylan generally doesn't like to talk shit about the women he sleeps with, but he's had just enough booze, and dislikes her enough to loosen that restriction a bit. He gives Johnny a few details, including the part where she told him he was hung like a nigger.

Johnny busts out laughing and says, "That ain't even true!"

"I know!" Raylan replies, his laughter on the edge of uncontrolled, and he takes a minute to rein it in. "But fuck, I can't listen to shit like that. There's no call for it."

Johnny looks at him a few seconds, then says, "That actually bothers you, don't it?"

"Yeah, it does. Just because I live here, don't mean I gotta be a certain way. No one has to, we can make our own choices about what to believe." Raylan looks down at his glass. He says quietly, "You did, about me and Boyd."

Johnny looks distinctly uneasy now, and Raylan can't blame him. They don't exactly have the kind of relationship where they pour their hearts out to each other. Still, he might not get another chance to say this, and he finds he really wants to. 

"You could have caused real problems for me, and you didn't. You did the opposite, and I want you to know I realize that, and I find it... actually kind of amazing. Do you mind if I ask you why? I'm real curious about it.

Johnny sits back and looks up at the ceiling. He blows out a long breath, then says, "I pretty much freaked out when I saw you and him. I could barely sleep all night, just... worrying about it. It's hard to even remember what the hell I was so concerned about. Nothing real, just fear of something I couldn't understand."

Raylan shifts in his chair and nods. It's easy to imagine. 

"I didn't know what the hell to do, so when I saw Boyd the next day, I just asked him what the fuck that was about. I was afraid of the answer, but all he said was, 'I love him, I can't help it, and it ain't my fault or his." I didn't even know what to say back to that. 

Raylan looks at him with a rueful grin and says, "You must be some kinda romantic, if that's all it took to sway you."

"Nah, I wouldn't say that. Tell you the truth, it took me a few years to really wrap my head around it. And it was confusing to me, seeing you picking up women here week after week. I didn't know much about it back then."

"But now you're an expert on human sexuality."

Johnny grins and says, "You're a lesson all on your own, Givens. You think I ain't figured out what you go outta town for every couple months?"

Now it's Raylan's turn to be uncomfortable, and he looks away. "I ain't all that proud of myself for that."

"Why, 'cause it makes you no better than Boyd?"

Raylan snorts and replies, "Let's not get crazy."

Raylan ends up sleeping in his truck in the parking lot that night. He wakes in the morning, blearily wondering if Johnny went home with Tracy. 

He calls Boyd later to give him shit about his meddling, but Boyd refuses to apologize. "He's family, Raylan. It's my prerogative. And anyway, he basically told me to fuck off."

"You do know that if anyone finds out you tried to get me a job as a pimp's assistant, you can kiss your already nearly non-existent chances of reelection goodbye, right?"

"Yes," Boyd replies, "and I'm sure that's of grave concern to you, darlin'."

"I'm taking his offer," Raylan says. 

"Good."

They talk awhile. Boyd is unrelentingly positive about his campaign, but Raylan has to assume it's just bravado. He watches the news. Nevertheless, he lets him talk, and wonders at the ridiculous turns of fate that led him to be dating a delusional right-wing politician. 

Boyd comes to visit a few weeks later. Ava offers him a room, but when he mentions it to Raylan, they both laugh a little nervously, and he says, "Maybe next time." He rents a house from a guy Johnny knows in Cumberland whose mother just went into a nursing home. It's technically for sale, but he's not holding his breath. 

Raylan doesn't meet him at the airport, figuring they might as well not invite more attention than necessary to the fact that Boyd is in town. He doesn't want any additional scrutiny of his comings and goings, especially now. 

He shows up at the rented house before Boyd gets there, around three in the afternoon, and waits outside in his truck. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he's aware of is Boyd's mouth on his, leaning in through the open window. 

"Hey," Raylan says, blinking his eyes open. 

"Hey, yourself. I brought barbecue from that place in town, and two six packs. Think you can bring yourself to eat before you jump on me?"

Raylan reaches up to pull his head down again for another, more awake kiss. "Maybe," he replies, "if we eat fast."

They eat, fool around, and then go out walking in the hills as the sun is going down. 

Boyd is picking through some brambles across the little trail they're using. "You know what I was thinking about on the way here, Raylan?"

"I got a good idea," he says, smiling.

"No, besides that. I was wishing we could get some of old Mags Bennett's apple pie. Daddy used to keep it around sometimes, for special occasions."

Raylan laughs and says, "Yeah, that was some good shit. Unfortunately, time has not been much of a healer where that relationship is concerned. Helen's warned me more than once to keep my distance, and I haven't wanted to test it."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Maybe a few years. But much longer since I've actually spoken to her. Helen's in touch, though. Maybe I could get something worked out if it means that much to you."

They don't get back to the house for a couple hours, and by then they're chilled and damp from the mist that had started falling when they were still a mile out. They shed their clothes and slip between the threadbare sheets on the old, sprung mattress, clinging to each other for warmth. 

Raylan doesn't feel like doing anything, just wants to hold onto Boyd for a bit. He burrows himself in close, lets the space between them heat up and lull them off to sleep like a drug.

They're still close, and touching - though no longer clutching each other - when the morning light comes in through the sheer nylon curtains. Raylan wakes first, and he takes a minute to look at the man next to him. 

When his face is relaxed, as it is in sleep, he looks young, boyish. His lips are full in his angular face, and his high forehead is clear of the furrows that often occupy it in his waking hours. Raylan thinks he might tell him to try not to worry so much. 

Eventually, Boyd wakes, and after realizing that Raylan has been watching him sleep, smiles real big and presses close, rutting up on him and tonguing that place on his neck that makes him lose control. 

"I want you all the time, Raylan," he breathes, hands roaming everywhere. "When you're not with me, when you are, it's all I think about. I want you every way I can have you. I want everything with you."

"Alright," Raylan says back, not entirely focused, "we got time, Boyd. We can do whatever you want, honey." He takes Boyd's cock in his hand and pulls up on him slowly. "I can make you feel so good, Boyd, you can't imagine. I will..."

Boyd's dick thickens and jerks in his hand, and Raylan wraps a leg around him. He pulls up even tighter and pumps Boyd's length a little faster. He whispers in his ear, because Boyd seems to like that so much, saying, "I'll show you, baby, you'll see. You feel so good to me." 

Then, after a few minutes, he says, "Touch me and I'll come for you," and Boyd slides his hand between them. He puts his hand on him, and Raylan jerks up into it. He gasps, "That's it... it's all for you, Boyd, don't stop, it's so..." Then he's coming, and Boyd is taking his mouth, tongue and teeth all over the place, and he feels Boyd's release too. 

Boyd comes down with his forehead pressed to Raylan's shoulder, and Raylan kisses the top of his head. Boyd laughs a breathy laugh and rubs his arm up and down, then rolls away and looks at him. 

"What do you want to do today, Raylan?"

"I was thinking I'd call up Helen and see if I can get her to talk to Mags. Maybe we can get some of that shine you want so bad."

Boyd grins and says, "Alright. You think we should call up Ava and see if she wants to share it with us?" 

Raylan looks at him like he's trying to read him, and Boyd says, "I told you, I want to do everything with you. I meant that too, if you want to. Only if you want to."

"I do. I just didn't think... Boyd, I barely know what you and I are doing. I don't want to confuse things."

Boyd raises his eyebrows and says, "It doesn't seem confusing to me, Raylan. But maybe it does to you because you already fucked her. Maybe you got some kind of relationship with her that's separate from you and me."

Raylan lays back on his pillow and sighs. "She's a friend, Boyd. And I know she's into it, and at some point, that sounds like something I'd like to do with you, and her. I just don't want to make it weird and then it's always gonna be weird, and she's really my only friend in town." He feels himself getting agitated towards the end of this. He hadn't even realized he felt so strongly about it until he said it. 

"Okay, Raylan," he says, "then lets not do it this time. That doesn't mean we can't see her, though. Right? She's your friend, and I'd like her to be mine too."

After a shower in the ancient bathroom, Raylan calls Helen with his request. She sighs loudly in his ear, which he knew she would, and tells him if he wants it, he can come to breakfast and she'll give it to him then. Apparently she keeps a little stash of her own.

"Well... the thing is, I've got company in town."

"Is that so?" she says, no surprise in her voice at all. "And who might that be?"

"You know who it is, Helen. You want us both for breakfast?"

She's quiet for a few seconds, then says, "Well. If you want to bring him, then he's welcome."

"Thanks, Helen," Raylan says. He feels like he should say more, but has no idea what. She solves this problem a second later by telling him goodbye and hanging up. Helen is not the sentimental type.

She's got biscuits in the oven when they arrive, and gravy on the stovetop. She looks up when Raylan comes in, and sets down the wooden spoon she's been using. Boyd comes in behind him, and hangs back at the door. Normally so outgoing and confident, he seems unsure of how to behave around Helen.

She stares openly at him until he walks forward and holds his hand out to her. "Miss Helen," he says, "It's been a long time."

She eyes the extended hand like she suspects it of some kind of misdeed, then smacks him smartly on the side of his head. Raylan's eyes go wide and he pulls his own head back as if he'd taken the hit himself. He says nothing, though. He knows better.

"What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" she says, scowling at him. "I always knew you had that streak of Crowder bullshit in you, but I never imagined you could keep it up that long."

Boyd is obviously taken aback at first, but after the original shock, he seems to realize that she's giving him some kind of chance here. He wouldn't be standing in her kitchen if she wasn't willing to listen.

"Yes ma'am," he says, "I have a great deal to make up for. I-"

"Don't you give me that slick politician talk, Boyd Crowder." She picks up her spoon again and stir the gravy. "You're home now, you best start sounding like it."

Boyd walks closer to her and puts his hand on the counter. "I'm sorry, Miss Helen." He glances quickly at Raylan, then back at her. "I've behaved terribly. I'm trying to fix it, I promise."

She rolls her eyes at him. "You can fix some of it," she says, looking over at Raylan for a moment, "but not all." 

She jerks her head toward the table, and he and Raylan sit. When she puts the plate in front of him, Boyd beams a wide smile at her. "That looks delicious," he says.

"Don't shine me on, boy. It ain't like you can't get biscuits and gravy in Alabama."

He shrugs, conceding the point, but replies, "Don't get home-cooked too often, though. My housekeeper is from Guatemala, and my wife was from New York. Restaurant cooking just ain't the same."

She purses her lips and sighs at him like she doesn't even know where to begin with that statement.

Raylan finally feels like he can talk, and he thanks her for having them over. She waves him off, then asks how Arlo's been. 

Raylan frowns down at his food and doesn't answer right away. He glances up at her, and he can see she's concerned. Finally, he says, "Depends on the day. He... he's not doing all that great, no. After Bowman died, he forgot and thought I was talking about Boyd. And... he's forgotten about my mother being gone... a few times."

Helen is looking back at him with the same stoic face she always shows him, but he can see the worry in her eyes. 

"I took him to the doctor," he tells her, steel in his voice like her own, "he's got medicine. I'm doing what I gotta do, Helen. Alright?"

She nods curtly and says, "I know it."

She sends them off after breakfast with two jars of the famed apple pie. As they're leaving, Helen grabs Boyd by the arm and asks him to wait. Raylan waits in the car, and when Boyd joins him a minute later, Raylan asks what she wanted.

Boyd gives him a lopsided smile and says, "She said she hoped I'd be good for you, but she'd put a load of buckshot in my ass if I hurt you again."

Raylan rolls his eyes and says, "That means, 'Welcome to the family,' coming from her."

Ava's rented a couple movies, and they argue a bit before settling on The Big Lebowski, then start in on the shine. 

Boyd has settled himself in the middle, and they pass the jar back and forth slowly. Raylan notices the moment when he goes from feeling pleasantly buzzy to not quite in control of his movements, and he slows down, but doesn't stop drinking entirely. 

About twenty minutes in, Boyd starts playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the more relaxed Raylan's body gets, the more he seems to be reacting to it. He leans his head back and closes his eyes as Boyd splays his fingers to support it. 

At one point, Raylan looks over to find that Ava's hand is on Boyd's thigh, and Boyd is tracing designs on the back of it with his fingertip. He watches this for maybe a minute, trying to figure out how he feels about it. His dick, at least, already seems to know. 

Boyd turns to look at him, sees where his eyes are, and leans over to kiss him. It's a hot thing, that kiss, though not urgent. They're all way too drunk for anything to feel very urgent. 

Ava kneels up and turns herself around, straddling one each of their legs, with her hands on both of them. She kisses Raylan, then Boyd. Boyd runs a hand up the back of her thigh. She takes hold of Raylan's hand, puts it between her legs and moves against it. 

Raylan looks over at Boyd, whose face holds a sort of loose, drunken smile, but he finds he can't return it. He wants this - he knows he does - but it doesn't feel right. Not now, and he knew that before, he told Boyd that. He's afraid to say it now, though, he feels like an asshole. He knows Ava's going to be pissed, and maybe Boyd too, although he should have known-

"Raylan." Boyd is talking to him now, and he picks up Ava from their laps and eases her to the side. "We're stopping. It's okay."

Raylan wonders what his face had looked like, for Boyd to react so quickly. It must have been pathetic. "I'm sorry. Ava, I'm really sorry. I stopped thinking for a minute, but then I started again. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

He starts to stand up, but only then realizes how dizzy he is, and falls back down to the couch. "Fuck," he groans.

"Raylan, it's fine," Ava says. "I ain't mad."

Raylan leans his head back and closes his eyes, but quickly learns what a bad idea that was as everything starts to spin. 

"Come on, baby," Boyd says, "Let's go for a walk." 

"I'm going to bed," Ava says, "but listen close, boys. None of us knew what this might be like, and it's okay that you wanted to stop. But next time - if there is a next time, and I ain't saying there has to be - you better both know what you want."

Boyd nods at her and tells her good night, then clasps Raylan at the wrist and forearm to pull him up. 

"I can't walk, Boyd, I'm too drunk," Raylan says, and he knows it sounds like he's whining. He is.

"Yes you can," Boyd replies patiently, "You need to. So do I. Let's go."

They stumble out the front door, knocking into each other and almost falling at least twice, and they make their way out to the little dirt road that leads to Ava's driveway. The second time, Raylan laughs and leans his head into Boyd's shoulder. 

"I really am sorry, Boyd. I thought it would be okay."

"Only because you're drunk, Raylan," Boyd says. "I'm the one should be apologizing. You told me, but I didn't listen. Not well enough, anyway."

"You're drunk too. Next time, if we do... maybe we shouldn't be. Not that drunk."

They start walking again, slowly. 

"So what happened? What was so upsetting that you had to stop?" Boyd's not looking at him - he seems to require all of his focus just to keep moving forward - but he touches Raylan's arm when he asks.

Raylan sighs, and he starts to try to find an answer, but suddenly feels terribly sick. He barely makes it to the grass before puking up all that shine, and most of his dinner. 

When it's over, he feels so, so much better, and he smiles grimly up at Boyd, who is leaning against a nearby tree. 

"You should try it," he says, laughing darkly. He feels kind of stupid. He can't remember the last time he drank to the point of puking, but he thinks it was probably before he was even of age to drink legally.

"Can't rush nature," Boyd replies. 

Raylan gets up and spits a few times. "Can we go back now? I need some water or something. Maybe a coke."

"Yeah, alright. I think I saw some Dr. Pepper in there."

Raylan makes a disgusted noise and says, "I hate that shit."

"I'm pretty sure that makes you a communist," Boyd says, "or at the very least, unAmerican."

They make it back to the house and go straight to the kitchen, being even louder in their attempts at silence. Boyd does indeed find a Dr. Pepper for himself, and a pitcher of lemonade for Raylan, who is busy rinsing his mouth out in the sink.

They sit down with their drinks, and Boyd says, "Well? You gonna tell me what got you so worked up?"

Raylan looks back at him, and he feels kind of ridiculous about what he's about to say. "I know it ain't rational, but I'm afraid if we do that, you won't want me anymore."

Boyd frowns at him. He looks perplexed, and he asks, "Do you mean you think I'll prefer to be with Ava after? Because I'm sure that's not true, Raylan."

Raylan shakes his head and rests it on the heel of his hand, uttering a short laugh. "No, that ain't what I mean. Boyd... I told you how I don't usually see people for very long, right?"

"Sure," he says, grinning. "You get restless."

"Yeah," Raylan replies. "But I did try, for awhile, when I was younger. I dated a few girls from around here, and that was okay, but I could never work up the nerve to tell any of them about..."

"The boys."

Raylan nods. "It just would have made me feel too exposed around here. But I also didn't feel right about going behind their backs. So once the urge got too strong, I'd just break up with them."

Boyd lays his head down on his arm and reaches out for Raylan's hand. "I'm still listening, honey, I just can't keep my head up any longer."

Raylan snorts softly and smiles at him. "Okay. Don't fall asleep on me just yet, you'll miss out on my riveting tale of woe."

Boyd squeezes his hand and looks up at him. 

"So anyways," he continues, "I met this boy in Lexington, but he lived in Berea."

"Berea?" Boyd smirks, "Was he some kind of hippie?"

Raylan rolls his eyes. "No. He played the banjo in a bluegrass band. The night I met him, I followed him back to his place and he played me 'East Virginia Blues'. You know that one?"

Boyd nods. "I'm guessing that was a successful ploy to get in your pants."

"Now, what do you think? So I spent the night, even though usually I wouldn't have, but it was a bit of a drive back to Harlan, and he asked if I wanted to. And then he made me breakfast in the morning. I almost left without asking for his number. Almost ran outta there, because it seemed like too much, too complicated, but..."

"But what, Raylan?"

Raylan shrugs and looks down. "His eyes were the exact same color as yours."

Boyd pulls Raylan's hand toward him on the table and tucks it under his head.

"And he was real sweet, too," Raylan goes on, "and he had a nice house that he shared with some woman who was a potter or something. He seemed like he had his shit together, and it kind of made me think maybe I could too."

"So you saw him again," Boyd prompts.

"Yeah," Raylan answers, "and the next time I told him about myself, you know..."

"The girls."

"Right. I told him I was bisexual, which is the first time I ever used that word about myself to anyone. He asked me if I was sure."

Boyd laughs, and so does Raylan a little, but he says, "I knew what he meant. He wasn't asking if I was sure, he was asking if I was lying. But I told him I was, and that I wanted him to know if we were gonna be seeing each other more, which I hoped we would."

"And did you?" 

"Yeah, we did," Raylan says. "He seemed a little weirded out by it, but he asked me some questions anyway, and then we let it go, and we saw each other for a couple months. I liked him a lot."

Boyd raises his eyebrows sleepily at him and says, "You were falling in love with him."

Raylan inclines his head in acknowledgement, but doesn't say anything. He's not sure that's true, but he thinks it's close enough. 

"He asked me a few times if I was wanting to be with a woman, but honestly I didn't at that time. I guess because I was really into him, and I wasn't really looking at anyone else just then."

Raylan gently pulls his hand out from under Boyd's cheek, strokes his fingers through his hair for a second, then gets up to grab him another Dr. Pepper.

"You're falling asleep," he says, "Drink this."

Boyd pulls his head up slowly and takes the drink from him. "Okay, baby, but I wonder if I could prevail upon you to get to the salient points in a timely fashion?"

Raylan laughs at him and says, "You used to talk like that all the time."

Boyd grins back at him. "It used to impress you."

"I'll get to the point," he says, "there ain't that much more to it anyway. He asked me for like the fifth goddamn time in two months if I was starting to feel restless, and I finally got pissed off. I snapped at him, told him no, but if it would shut him up I would go ahead and fuck a girl for him."

Boyd winces and says, "I'm sure that went over well."

"He laughed at me. Told me he thought I was full of shit and a poser." Raylan pauses, then continues, "So I fucked his roommate."

Boyd's eyes go wide, and he breathes out, "Oh my god, Raylan. What an asshole."

Raylan smiles humorlessly and says, "Yeah. I know I was. But the point is, he couldn't take even the idea that I might want something he couldn't _be_ for me. And that scares the shit out of me. I lost something that was almost important to me. Could have been. But that seems like nothing compared to... I just don't want to fuck this up, Boyd."

Boyd is looking at him with a small frown, and he hesitates, but says, "Raylan, you're saying that because one guy you liked was kind of an insecure dick about it, you never tried again with any other man or woman? You took some shit for being bi _one time_ , so you swore off dating forever? And now you're seeing someone in a similar situation to you, yet you're _still_ afraid of being rejected for that very thing?"

Raylan looks back at him for a moment, then shrugs and says, "Yeah."

Boyd laughs at him and says, "Now who's the stupid fuck?"

"Both of us?"

Boyd sighs, and gets up to throw the bottle away. "You think you can drive, now you puked up all that shine and poured your sad little heart out to me?"

"Fuck you, asshole," Raylan retorts in a mild voice. He's glad he told Boyd his story, because he hadn't realized how stupid it was until he'd said it out loud. "I'm okay enough to drive. I don't think Ava would really want to see us for breakfast tomorrow, do you?"

"Perhaps not," Boyd says, and they head out to the car. They spend the rest of their time together in the hills and in the house, and neither of them feels ready for the week to end when it does. 

When Boyd has his car packed, he and Raylan lean against it as they say their goodbyes. "I'll be watching you on the TV, Boyd," Raylan says.

"Rooting against me," Boyd replies. 

"No," Raylan says, and he puts his hand on Boyd's neck, cradling his jaw. "Not rooting at all, just watching you." 

They kiss, and Raylan hates to break it. He follows Boyd's mouth as he begins to pull away, and Boyd finally puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm coming back, Raylan," he says, their cheeks brushing and Raylan clutching his arms.

Raylan huffs a laugh, then wraps his arms around Boyd's shoulders. "I know that," he says, like Boyd's being stupid. But he pulls him in tight anyway before he says goodbye.


	7. Chapter 7: Election Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd faces the consequences of his actions.

The eight months that follow go by quickly, broken up by three visits by Raylan to Birmingham, and two trips to Harlan by Boyd. Most of those are crammed into the first four months, however, as Boyd's campaign becomes increasingly time-consuming. 

Raylan manages to be philosophical about it, for the most part, though he does find it idiotic for Boyd to be spending so much time and energy on what seems, to Raylan, a pointless exercise. He only says that to him a couple times, and Boyd always reacts with perfect, utterly insane confidence. It's maddening, and Raylan has no idea what the man really believes. 

They talk on the phone a few times a week, and of course, Raylan watches his television appearances with a kind of detached fascination. 

Often, he watches with Ava, and only once do they talk about what almost happened. 

Raylan brings it up after months of avoiding the topic, and even he is not sure why he does it. He says he's still thinking, still trying to get there, and that he wants to. 

He tells her that he has to be sure about Boyd first, and she says, "I get it, Raylan. But what more do you need from him to be sure? He tells people all the time how much he loves you."

And that's true, he does. Boyd will pull out a reference to the man he loves in any interview where it seems relevant. It's almost like he's looking for opportunities, and when Raylan is feeling cynical, he wonders if Boyd is just trying to court the gay vote, or the young vote. He doesn't really believe that at the moments he hears Boyd say it, though, because it doesn't sound like a lie. It sounds like he almost can't help himself. 

Ava tells him she's not in any hurry, and he tries to take her at her word. 

Boyd calls him a couple weeks before the election to ask him to come to Birmingham and watch the returns with him at the campaign office. 

"You don't have to pretend you want me to win, darlin'. I just want you there. I actually, almost _need_ you there, if I'm being totally honest."

"Sure I will," Raylan replies, "Wouldn't miss it. And Boyd, you do know I'm on your side, right? Even if I don't agree with you about some things... I still hope get what you want and are happy."

"If I get to have you, I'm not terribly worried about everything else." He pauses for a moment and clears his throat. "I really mean that, Raylan."

Raylan closes his eyes and leans his head into the wall. "I know," he says, "Me too."

"I think I'm gonna lose, you know," Boyd says with rare candor, where this subject is concerned. He sounds a bit wistful, but not too concerned about it.

"I think you are too, darlin'. Do you think it would..." Raylan pauses to make sure he really means this, and then in a rush, says, "What do you think about Ava coming along? To watch the returns, and maybe... who knows."

Boyd doesn't answer for almost a minute, and Raylan is about to ask if he's still there, when Boyd says, "Have you asked her yet?"

"No," Raylan says, "not yet, but I think she'd want to."

"You have to be sure before you say too much, Raylan, or you'll fuck this up for good."

Raylan huffs a laugh and says, "I know it. I was just afraid of fucking _us_ up. I was worried we might lose something."

Boyd sighs down the line and says, "So what's changed? You getting restless, baby?"

"Nope. Not yet."

Raylan can hear Boyd's smile as he says, "Well, maybe that's why it feels okay now. Listen, Raylan, if Ava wants to come along, she's always welcome in my home. She's welcome either way, she's our friend, so by all means ask her along. Just don't make any promises to her you can't keep. Me, I got lots of patience, I could forgive you almost anything. She on the other hand, might start to get impatient."

"I _know_ , Boyd. I fucking get it, alright?"

"Alright, honey." Boyd sighs. "I sure do miss you, Raylan. I love you."

"Yeah. Love you too," Raylan grumbles in return.

"Don't be grumpy."

"I ain't grumpy. Shut up. I'm sexually deprived."

Boyd gives a low chuckle and says, "Two more weeks, Raylan."

Raylan calls Ava and invites himself over. He brings takeout barbecue as a gift. With hardly any small talk first, he says, "You want to come to Birmingham with me and watch Boyd lose his election?

She looks at him sharply and says, "What are you asking me, Raylan?"

"Just that, Ava. Anything else, I'd prefer to wait and see what happens."

She sighs and pats his hand. "Okay. No pressure. But if you two start something, you best be ready to finish it next time."

Raylan asks Helen to look in on Arlo while he's gone, and she agrees, but tells him, "I hope he gets his ass handed to him, then maybe he can move outta godforsaken Alabama and back where he belongs."

She's taken a shine to Boyd over the past several months, which Raylan thinks is because he keeps smiling and stays polite, regardless of how much abuse she throws at him about his politics. Raylan asked her about that once, but she said it was because of the light that's come back into his eyes since he started seeing Boyd again. He's still not sure if she was bullshitting him or not.

Ava and Raylan arrive at Boyd's house at around four in the afternoon, on Election Day, but Boyd isn't there. The housekeeper lets them in, and gives Raylan a note that Boyd left for him. It says to meet him at the hotel where the returns party is being held, but not to show up until 8, because he'll be running around and won't have any time for them. 

Raylan brings their bags upstairs, depositing Ava's in the spare bedroom, because he just doesn't know yet. When he comes down, Ava is rooting in the little bar in the living room, and she pulls out a bottle of Lagavulin.

"Too fancy for Kentucky bourbon, I guess," she says, examining the label.

"He's got Makers in the kitchen cabinet. He told me he keeps this shit out here because it's expected. Ain't that some bullshit?"

"Yeah," she says, laughing. "Imma have me a glass anyway, see what all the fuss is about. You want some?"

"Nah, I had it a couple visits back. Seems like the kind of thing you gotta force yourself to like." He winks at her, and grins when she takes a sip and makes a face. "You know what you should do, honey? Go upstairs and take a shower in the master bathroom."

"Why, do I smell?" she asks, sniffing at her armpit. 

"No, no. Just trust me, you want to take a shower."

She frowns at him like she thinks he might be losing it, but takes her glass of scotch upstairs anyway. 

Raylan gets himself a glass of bourbon and stretches out on the couch in the den, an incongruously comfortable room in an otherwise fairly formal house. He flips through TV channels, but nothing interests him, so he just lies there and dozes off after a little while.

He's awoken maybe forty-five minutes later by Ava, who flops down in an armchair next to the sofa. He looks up and says, "Did you have a nice shower?"

She opens her eyes big at him and says, "Thanks a lot, Raylan. I am now spoiled for all other showers, for the rest of my life."

He grins and picks up his empty glass. "I think I might go take one myself, you don't mind."

They're ready to go at quarter to eight, and when they get outside, there's a man standing outside of a black sedan, who tells them that Senator Crowder set a car for them. 

"Well, of course he did," Raylan says, and they climb into the back seat. 

"Does he do stuff like this for you every time you visit?" Ava asks him in an impressed voice.

Raylan laughs and replies, "Not usually, no. It ain't really my kind of thing. This is either for your benefit, or because it might be the last chance he gets to show off this way."

"You think he's gonna be real down about losing?"

"Can't say. I think he's being realistic about it now."

She nods and watches the city go by out the window. They pull up, a short time later, in front of the downtown Hilton. The driver opens the door for them, and Raylan tries to tip him, but the man waves him off. "Senator Crowder said not to take your money, the evening is on him."

Raylan rolls his eyes and Ava giggles. "Well, I won't tell him if you don't," Raylan says, and presses a ten into his hand. 

They walk in through the lobby and head down the hall to the ballroom. It's easy to figure out where it is, since there are people wandering in and out, lots of women in red dresses and men with red ties and American flag lapel pins. 

"I think I just wandered into a recurring nightmare of mine," Raylan mutters. 

Ava nudges him with her shoulder and says, "Raylan, don't you pretty much _live_ in a recurring nightmare?"

Raylan smiles grimly and replies, "Pretty much. That's what makes me such a charming and affable guy."

He spots Boyd from across the room, holding court with what looks like a couple of young staffers. He takes Ava's arm and steers her in that direction, and Boyd waves them over when he notices. 

"Raylan!" Boyd cries, reaching out and pulling him into an unusually manly embrace, pounding him on the back twice before letting go. Raylan rolls his eyes at him. "Miss Ava, don't you look lovely," he says warmly, kissing her on the cheek. "That color blue surely does bring out your eyes. Though I can't say the same for Raylan's tie. You look better in red, darlin'." He's all over the place tonight. 

"Ain't that a damn shame," Raylan says drily.

"Ava, Raylan, this is Andrea," he says, gesturing at the young woman to his right, "and this here's Eric." He points to the boy next to her, who's probably in college but looks about 15, despite the beard he seems to be attempting to grow. "These two came to me after much of my original staff jumped ship."

Andrea has a huge smile on her face as she tells them she's thrilled to meet them. "I'm so happy to be working on Senator Crowder's campaign. I think he was so brave, coming out so publicly like he did, and facing the backlash from his own party as well as the LGBTQ community."

Raylan pushes down a laugh, and says, "Did he happen to mention that he simultaneously outed me to an entire bar full of coal miners and small-time criminals, which I happened to be sitting in at the time?"

Her eyes get big, and she stares at him like he's some kind of museum exhibit. "Did you get beaten up?" she asks in a hushed tone.

"Nope," Raylan says, winking at her. "They're all afraid of me. They call me the QuickDraw Queer."

There's a pause of about a second, where everyone is silent. Then Ava's high, pealing giggle comes in, and then there's a loud burst of laughter from the little group. Even Andrea is laughing, even though she must have realized he was teasing her a little, because she says, "I'm sorry, I get carried away sometimes."

Raylan grins at her and gives her a little shrug to say it ain't nothing, then glances up at Boyd. He doesn't look like he'd been laughing at all, and in fact, looks fairly uptight. He's obviously having a hard time dealing with his worlds colliding, and Raylan gives him a questioning little frown. 

Boyd looks back at him with warring emotions on his face. He looks like a man who doesn't know whether to fight or flee, and that's a weird look on Boyd. Usually, he knows, and the fact is that right now he doesn't need to do either. He's among friends, but he doesn't seem to trust that, somehow.

Raylan crosses over to him and puts a hand on his upper arm, gripping the bicep maybe a little tighter than necessary. He says, "Boyd, I need to talk to you for a minute, would that be alright?"

Boyd looks up at him, almost startled, puts a false smile on his face and says, "Why surely, Raylan." He looks at the small group and says, "Will you all excuse us for a few minutes?"

Raylan pulls him away, through the crowd and out to the hallway. "What's going on with you, baby?" Raylan asks.

Boyd gives him that same sad look as he'd had on before, and Raylan huffs. He continues to pull him through the lobby and out the door. The weather is unseasonably warm for early fall, and they walk across the grass to the side of the hotel. 

"Where are we going, Raylan?" Boyd asks, as he allows Raylan to pull him along. 

"Somewhere private," he replies, and drags him behind a cardboard recycling dumpster. "Private-ish, anyway," he adds.

"What-"

Raylan shushes him and pushes him up against the granite wall, leaning in to kiss him as he unbuttons his fly and slides the zipper down.

"Raylan, we can't-"

"Yes, we can. Ain't the first time I've done it up against a building, darlin'. Trust me, this'll be just fine."

"Raylan, if we get caught-"

"We won't, if you shut the fuck up," Raylan mutters. His hand is inside Boyd's shorts now, working him up and down as he lets his lips slide from Boyd's mouth to his jaw. Boyd is very hard now, gasping in Raylan's ear. Raylan kneels down quickly and looks up, whispering, "Come on now, Boyd," then takes all of him in at once. 

Boyd grunts, but keeps quiet after that, even as he begins to lose control. Raylan has his hands on Boyd's body, stroking him, trying to soothe, but it feels like he's shaking a little. Raylan takes Boyd's hand and pulls it to the side of his face, and tilts his face up so he can see Boyd's. Boyd is already looking down at him, his face full of love and lust, and who knows what else.

Boyd jerks forward, then runs his fingers into Raylan's hair as he comes, a low, soft moan escaping from his mouth. 

He zips up as Raylan stands, then pulls him in close. Raylan is hard, but he dismisses Boyd's attempt to reciprocate. "No need," he says, "you'll get me later. You needed it now."

"I guess I did," he says. He reaches up with his thumb and wipes at Raylan's cheek. "Missed a spot." 

Raylan laughs and kisses him again. "Let's go in. Boyd, look, everything you could have done, is already done. All you gotta do now is enjoy the party, right? And I'm here, and I love you, son. So whatever's fucking with your head, forget about it. It ain't important."

When they get into the lobby, Raylan casts an eye over Boyd's face, and can see that it looks a lot more relaxed, and his expression is much more natural. Boyd glances over, smirks, and says, "Don't you look pleased with yourself."

"I ain't the only one," Raylan replies.

They enter the ballroom again and Raylan looks around for Ava, but before he finds her, his eye is caught by a familiar head of shiny, silvery-blonde hair atop a slim, elegant figure in a black dress. The woman is standing next to a man with wavy brown hair and a jaw like the prow of a ship. 

He turns his head, and he can see that Boyd has spotted them too, because his face has already gone stiff. 

"I didn't realize she would be here," Raylan says calmly. 

Boyd lets out a sigh and replies, "Her husband likes to throw his money around in political circles. I'd hoped they would sit this out, but I should have known she wouldn't miss an opportunity to watch me go down in flames."

Raylan nudges him with his elbow and says, "Too bad she missed out on me going down a few minutes ago."

Boyd fixes him with a withering glare which softens after a moment. "I'm alright, don't worry. I suppose I should take the high road and say hello. You want to meet her husband? His name is Sutton Granville, if you can believe that shit."

"Handsome fellow," Raylan says, smirking. 

"He is, as people love to say these days, a douchebag. Normally, I would not choose such coarse and undignified language, but sometimes when a shoe fits so perfectly, you just gotta wear that motherfucker."

Raylan grins and puts a hand to Boyd's back as they walk over to the stunning couple. Raylan inclines his head and says in a low voice, "I bet he likes to wear ladies' panties while he gets tied up and whipped."

Boyd closes his eyes for a second and presses his lips together. "Raylan," he says, "I am trying to keep my dignity, here."

"Why?"

Boyd looks at him blankly for a moment, then says, "I really do not know." 

Theresa is still pretending not to see them, but it's easy to tell from her overly bright laughter that she has. Sutton looks up as they approach, and extends his hand to Boyd with a straight-toothed, gleaming grin. 

"Boyd! Big night, eh? It must feel like you've been campaigning forever." 

"It surely does, Sutton," Boyd says, shaking his hand. "Of course, the campaign appreciates all your support."

Theresa smooths out the slight sneer that was on her face while Boyd was talking, and looks at her husband. "Oh, but you haven't met Boyd's _good friend_ from home. Raylan, is it?"

Raylan smiles at her, trying his best to make it as charming as possible, and says, "Yes, ma'am. Raylan Givens," he says, drawing it out slow, and sliding his eyes over to Sutton. "I'm not sure I'd use the term 'good friend,' although we are that too." He leans in towards the man and speaks in a conspiratorial tone. "I mean, there are limits to what a 'good friend' will do for you, you know what I'm sayin'?"

Theresa is shooting ice daggers at him, and he leans back, relaxed, smiling. Boyd is looking like he doesn't know what to do with him, so Raylan throws him a look with a little heat in it, just to remind him. 

"Well," Sutton says, laughing a little too loudly, "How refreshingly candid. It is really, really great to finally meet the man responsible for Boyd's, ah, personal and political one-eighty. That came as quite a surprise, let me tell you." 

The asshole is smiling like he finds the whole thing highly amusing. Raylan would like to give his catalogue model face a little bit of character, but he knows that's not in the cards. He's catching something off the man's demeanor, though, and he's not sure, but...

Raylan touches his elbow and smiles at him. He says, "It can't have come as that great of a shock, can it? Nobody can keep up that big a lie forever."

Sutton glances down at his hand with a half-second of panic before the frat boy grin asserts itself again. 

Boyd's mouth falls open slightly, and he turns to Theresa with a pleasant smile on his face. "I really should make the rounds," he says, "but I hope you'll enjoy yourselves. Try the shrimp." 

He turns around and mutters, "Let's go before I lose it." Raylan grins and falls into step beside him. 

"She sure can pick 'em," Raylan says. 

Boyd is shaking his head, and starts to say something when a man comes walking quickly towards them. He's around 30, with short, very thick, dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses. "Senator," he says, "the first returns are coming in." He talks fast, like Boyd should be in a big hurry to go watch himself lose. 

"Josh," Boyd says, "thanks, we'll head over there in a minute. But first I want to introduce you to someone. Raylan Givens, Josh Lippman, my campaign manager." He's looking across the room at someone. Raylan looks over, sees that it's Ava, and that she seems to be trying to get their attention. "Can you excuse me for a minute?" He turns to Raylan. "I'll go see what's up." 

Raylan shakes the man's hand and says, "So you're the one saved the day after everyone deserted him." 

"I don't know if I'd go that far," Lippman replies, his face a mask of tension. "I'm not sure anything's been saved."

"Well, I'm sure you did your best," Raylan says. He wonders if there's anyone around willing to give the man a blow job, because he looks worse than Boyd had.

"You're his boyfriend, huh? From Kentucky." Raylan nods, and Lippman says, "I don't know whether I should thank you, or hit you. If it wasn't for you, I probably wouldn't be in this job. 

"I'd imagine that's a bit of a mixed blessing," Raylan replies, nodding. 

"Between you and me, it was always an impossible task. I mostly concentrated on trying to manage his public image, making sure people knew he was making a real effort to be honest now. Problem is, his base isn't interested in that. They don't mind being lied to, as long as the lies line up with their beliefs."

"I'm familiar with the phenomenon," Raylan says.

"Boyd mentioned once that you two don't agree on politics. I mean, even aside from his former ties to the religious right."

Raylan shrugs. "I take it you don't either. Seems like you're still on his side."

"He pays me to be," Lippman says, "and my livelihood depends on how well I can handle a sure loser like this one. How he ends up looking after this could affect the rest of my career. But... to be perfectly honest, I've grown a bit fond of him. He's an unusual person."

Raylan laughs loudly at that, and he says, "He is that." 

Boyd and Ava are heading towards them, and Lippman says, "Who's the woman?"

Raylan hesitates, then says, "That's Ava. I guess she's sort of our girlfriend."

Lippman looks like he wants to ask more, but can't quite find the words before they arrive. 

"Raylan, oh my god," Ava says, "the two of you just disappeared, and them two cute little staffers just would not leave me alone. They were talkin' my ear off, askin' me about that article and what the two of you were like as boys. Well, mostly the girl was, the boy just kinda smiled at me. You would not believe some of the- oh." 

She cuts off then as she realizes there's a fourth person present. "I'm sorry, listen to me go on. I'm Ava Crowder." She holds her hand out to Lippman, and he takes it, sort of staring at her like he's fascinated. 

"So you're the lady who put all this into motion," he says.

"You mean with me shootin' my abusive husband? Well, I guess I never thought of it that way." She looks between Raylan and Boyd and says, "Y'all better keep that in mind. I'm the one who put you back together."

Boyd gives her a wide smile and says, "We already knew that, didn't we, Raylan?"

"Sure did," he says. "We're real grateful too." He locks eyes with her for a moment, and he knows then that they're going to do this tonight. She won't get between them, he knows that now. He should have known all along. 

She looks a little flustered after that, so he thinks she must have interpreted his look correctly. He puts his arm around her waist and looks at Boyd, who says, "Well, I suppose we should go watch the numbers. Though I can't say I am anxiously looking forward to it."

Raylan and Ava get plates of food, but Boyd says he ate earlier. Raylan thinks he's just too nervous to eat, but he chooses not to call him on it. 

The first districts reporting would normally have gone to him easily, and they are his best hope tonight. When he loses by a significant margin in those, all of the air goes out of the room. Ava slips off to fetch them all drinks at one point, and Raylan keeps his hand on Boyd the whole time, on his back, his arm, his shoulder. 

It doesn't take a great deal of waiting before the outcome is clear. People have drifted away, and it's mostly staff left now. Boyd stands up and motions for people to gather a little closer. 

Raylan and Ava stand off to the side, watching, and Raylan has a moment of wonder over the man Boyd has become. He was always someone that people wanted to listen to, but now he marshals the attention of a very different set of people than they'd known in Harlan, in their youth.

"I'd like to sincerely thank all of you who have stuck around this evening, and indeed who have stood by me during a difficult and unlikely campaign. Those of you who joined me later, you added a great deal of much-needed life and energy to the work we were doing. To those few who were with me from the start, who chose not to desert me despite revelations that may have come as a shock to you, I can only offer my humble gratitude. You have all worked very hard on my behalf, and it's been an honor and pleasure getting to know you. I'd like to especially thank Joshua Lippman, who stepped in when we were at our lowest point, and did his level best to pull us up. I hope I haven't destroyed a promising career, Josh." Laughter ripples through the room, and he says, "Enjoy the food and the booze, have a good time on me, and if our paths don't cross again, good luck to you. Good night!"

He talks with Josh for a minute, then pulls out his phone. Raylan walks close to him, and hears him offering congratulations to his opponent, a centrist Democrat and a fellow Gulf War veteran. He sounds sincere, though subdued. 

When he's finished, he looks at Raylan and says, "I am done here. Let's get the fuck out." They walk quickly over to Ava, each taking her by the arm, and they leave together through the lobby. 

They all climb into the waiting car, ignoring shouts from reporters and greetings from strangers. On the ride home, Raylan puts his hand to Boyd's head and rubs at his scalp, hoping to drain off some of the tension there. Ava strokes his arm and leans her head into him. None of them speak the entire way back.

By unspoken agreement, they end up in Boyd's bedroom, the bed still messy from the morning, as the housekeeper had the day off. 

The three of them are standing around, in a sort of circle. Raylan and Boyd are both looking at Ava, and when she realizes it, she puts her hand on her hip and says, "Oh, am I supposed to be the boss here?"

Boyd gives her a placating smile and says, "Well now, Ava, this was your idea from the beginning. You said yourself it's something you been thinking on awhile, did you not?"

"That's right, you did," Raylan puts in, nodding. 

"Well, I..." Ava laughs a little, and Raylan is pretty sure she's blushing. "I've thought about it, but that don't mean I know what to do. And I know you ain't gonna stand there and tell me you haven't thought about it too."

"Alright, look," Raylan says, "we've all had sex before. How different can it be? Maybe if we just... Jesus, why am I having such a hard time remembering how to start sex?" 

Boyd laughs at him and says, "Well, we can't do it with our clothes on, so..."

"Good thinking, Boyd," Ava says. "Someone want to zip me out of this dress?"

Boyd walks over and unzips her, seizing the opportunity to kiss her neck. She closes her eyes and smiles, saying, "Now, there's a step in the right direction." He slides the dress from her shoulders and moves his lips down, raising his eyes to look at Raylan as he does. 

Raylan takes a deep breath, then walks over to them. He puts a hand to her cheek and leans in, pausing for only a half-second before pressing his lips to hers. His hand moves up her waist to her breast and rests there lightly. As soon as the kiss breaks, he looks up into Boyd’s eyes, which are staring back at him. 

“Boyd,” he whispers, like he's saying hello, and pushes forward to meet his lips. They kiss, Ava between them, and she draws a sharp breath as they both press into her. Her hand rests on Raylan’s hip. He takes hold of it, moves it to his cock, and looks at her again. It all feels a little unreal, so he decides to go with that feeling. If it’s not really happening, he can do anything he wants to. 

She strokes him, and he reaches behind her to find Boyd. They all take turns exchanging soft, slow kisses until Ava stiffens a bit and gently pushes him back. “I need a little something, boys. I don’t care which one of you does it, but someone needs to take care of me now.” 

Raylan and Boyd look at each other, and Boyd shrugs. He pulls her around by the shoulder and puts his hand between her legs, cupping her and pressing his hand into her. Ava pushes back against him and moans as he bends his head to suck on a nipple. She takes him by the shoulders and walks him back towards the bed, sits down and scoots back as he moves over her. 

Raylan can’t take his eyes off them. He sits at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He watches as Boyd leaves kisses down the length of her body, then buries his face between her legs, moving rhythmically. He sees her toes curl, and her face contort in pleasure, and he almost doesn’t care if either of them touches him again tonight. Watching them is nearly as good. 

Ava is reaching her hand out in his general direction, seemingly searching for him. He moves down the bed to her, and she turns her face towards him. He thinks she wants a kiss, so he gives her one, then bends to suck at her breast, fondling the other one.

She's writhing on the bed, grinding her pussy into Boyd's face and huffing out breathy little sounds that are coming faster now with Raylan's attentions. 

As Raylan runs his tongue across her hard nipple, he feels a warm, strong hand on his calf, squeezing and rubbing up and down. It's only his leg, but he's already so turned on by the situation, it might as well be his dick. He moans just as Ava starts bucking up, crying out raggedly. 

When she stills, everything stops for a few seconds. They all sit up, listening to Ava's heavy, slowing breaths. Then Raylan reaches for Boyd and pulls him on top, hooking a leg around him and kissing him almost violently. He needs to put his mouth on Boyd, needs Boyd to touch him. 

Raylan rolls him over and holds him down roughly as he kisses him again, then immediately moves down and takes his cock, giving him everything he has and not letting up. 

What he really wants is to fuck him, but he's not going to do that in front of Ava, at least not this time. He does reach down and push a finger in, though, and not gently, but Boyd groans and pushes back against him. 

It doesn't take much time after that, and Boyd is grabbing at the back of his head, jerking unevenly into his mouth. He shouts Raylan's name as he comes, and Raylan thinks he could come just from hearing that a few more times. 

When he pulls away, he sees Ava staring at them, wide-eyed. He licks his lips and blinks at her, and she gives him a small smile. Boyd is pulling at his arm, and Raylan goes to him, lets Boyd kiss him and push him onto his back. 

Ava crawls over and kneels between his legs, her soft mouth closing over his dick as Boyd strokes the skin of his chest, his stomach, his arms. Boyd kisses his face, and Raylan lets his eyes drift shut. He feels so good, every part of his body is being touched and he feels like he has everything he could possibly need. 

He feels himself nearing the edge, and tries to hold back, because he wants this feeling to last. His breath is coming faster, and he's concentrating hard on holding off, when he hears Boyd's voice, low in his ear, saying, "You look so beautiful right now," and Raylan is finished. He comes in Ava's mouth with a loud exhale, and it feels like it goes on for a long time. 

Ava comes up and flops next to Boyd. He gives her a kiss, then grins real big and says, "I believe this venture can be considered a success."

Raylan smiles and says very softly, "Shut up, Boyd." He lays his head in the crook of Boyd's arm and reaches across him for Ava's hand. She squeezes it, then drags the covers over the three of them. No one speaks again. They drift off, the warmth of their bodies pulling them under. 

Raylan doesn't wake until he hears the shower. He rolls over and opens his eyes a crack to see Ava lying on her back a foot away, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mornin', honey," he mumbles. "Everything okay?"

She turns her face to him and smiles placidly. "I think so," she says. "You?"

"Mmhm." He reaches out to brush her hair back. "Was it like you wanted it to be?"

"It was... different than I thought."

"What was?" he asks, frowning a little. He hates to think it wasn't good for her, it was so good for him. 

"You and him. I didn't know it would be so... I felt like I was intruding, a little."

Raylan props himself up on his elbow. "You weren't," he says, almost sternly. "We're just used to each other. We both wanted you here, Ava. If we made it seem like we didn't, then I feel terrible about that."

"It wasn't nothing you did, Raylan. Maybe we just waited too long or something." 

Raylan sighs and swipes at his face. "I'm sorry about that. It was me, I needed to wait. I didn't..." He trails off, frowning. "Does that mean you don't ever want to do it again?"

Ava huffs a laugh and says, "I didn't say that. Let's just see how it goes."

"Alright." He hesitates, then adds, "If we do, you can tell us what to do, you know. If you're feelin' neglected or something. If you'd met Boyd's ex-wife, you'd know he don't mind taking orders from a woman."

She laughs and tells him, "I guess I need to hear this story."

"Maybe over breakfast," he replies. 

The shower turns off, and moments later Boyd comes into the room, a towel around his waist. "Shower's free," he says, grinning down at them. Ava rolls out of bed and walks naked into the bathroom, patting Boyd on the arm as she passes. 

Boyd watches her go, then sits on the edge of the bed. Raylan takes his arm and pulls him down for a kiss. 

"Is she okay?" Boyd asks.

"She will be. You should take us somewhere nice for dinner tonight."

Boyd grins and says, "Listen to you."

Raylan knows how it sounded, but doesn't particularly care. He knows Boyd likes it anyway. "And how are you feeling, darlin'? About the election, I mean, not the sex."

"Relieved, mostly," Boyd says. "I think I stopped really wanting it some time ago, though the losing still hurt in the moment."

"Helen thinks that means you'll be comin' home," Raylan says, meeting his eyes and holding them. 

Boyd starts a little at that, and says, "Home. That ain't been my home for a long time, Raylan. How do you feel about that idea?"

Raylan pulls him down again and into his arms. "Seeing as how I been waiting twenty years for it, how could I object? I just want you near, Boyd. I don't care where it is. If you won't come to me, I'll go to you."

Boyd makes some kind of wordless sound into his neck, then sits up. "Okay, baby," he says. "We'll make it happen."

Raylan is suddenly starving, and he says, "I'll buy breakfast if we can get this show on the road." He gets up, opens the bathroom door and calls in, "Ava, darlin', if you don't get a move on, I'm comin' in there with you." 

Over breakfast, they tell the story of Raylan's ill-fated first meeting with Theresa, and about what happened at the party, with her husband, Sutton.

Ava bugs out her eyes and says, "Are you sure?" 

"No," Raylan admits, "but I'd put money on it."

Boyd is shaking his head. "I can't help feeling bad for her."

Raylan rolls his eyes. "Well, snap the fuck out of it," he says. "Serves her right for ditching you just for being honest. Now she gets to find out via CNN, just you wait."

"You're just pissed she called you low class and made fun of your undershirt."

"No such a thing, Boyd. I am proudly low class, and that wifebeater is sexy as hell. Tell me I'm wrong."

Ava is cracking up now, and Raylan is grinning as he shoves a big bite of pancakes into his mouth. 

Boyd does, as Raylan suggested, take them out somewhere nice for dinner, and they finish two bottles of wine at dinner, plus a bourbon each for Raylan and Boyd. By the time they get back to Boyd's, they're all loose and laughing. 

As soon as they are in the door, Raylan grabs Ava around the waist and kisses her, pulling her in close. "You gonna join us tonight, honey?"

Ava closes her eyes and sighs. "Not tonight, boys," she says, pushing Raylan back gently. "You need some time for yourselves, I think, and I don't want to be there when you take it."

"Ava," Boyd puts in, "Raylan and I have all the time in the world, but this weekend was supposed to be for all of us."

"Well, it is, honey," she replies, putting her hand to Boyd's cheek. "We're having us a nice time, ain't we? That don't mean we all gotta be together the whole entire time. I'm gonna go read a book and go to sleep. I'm sure you two can find a way to occupy yourselves."

Boyd looks like he wants to offer another protest, but Raylan says, "Alright, then. Thank you," and kisses her cheek. He shoots a quelling glance at Boyd, who frowns, but shuts his mouth. 

She says goodnight to them and walks upstairs to the spare bedroom. Boyd crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows at him. "Why'd you let her get away with that, Raylan?"

"Why would you want to pressure her, Boyd?" Raylan asks back, maybe a little defensively. "She has a right to back off if that's what she wants."

Boyd lets out a hard breath through his nose and stares back for a few moments. "You think she's done with this?"

"No," Raylan replies, "I think she needs to deal with her feelings about it. Maybe we do too, maybe she's right. Is that not okay with you?" He smiles, walking slowly towards him, and says, "You got a taste and now I'm not enough for you by myself anymore?" 

He's in Boyd's space now, running a hand from his stomach to his chest. He knows that's not how it is, and Boyd knows it too. Boyd presses his lips together and gives him a look like he's being an asshole. "You know that ain't it, Raylan."

"So let it be, then. For now. Give her a little credit for knowing what she wants. Right?"

Boyd shakes his head slowly and jokes, "I swear, if I'd known Harlan was gonna turn you into such a sensitive fuckin' feminist, I would have come back and dragged your ass outta there."

Raylan is unbuttoning Boyd's shirt, brushing his lips against his face. He snorts softly and gives back, "If I'd known leavin' was gonna turn you into such a fascist pig, I would've tied you up and locked you in my basement."

Boyd smiles slowly as Raylan slides the shirt from his shoulders. "Maybe we should go upstairs," he says. "Then you can tell me all about this secret dungeon of yours in Arlo's cellar."

Raylan shrugs and says, "Not much else to tell. NPR plays non-stop, 'cept when I put on Indigo Girls CDs, and there ain't nothing to eat but brown rice, kale and vegetarian sushi."

Boyd laughs, and they walk up, keeping quiet as they pass Ava's closed door. In Boyd's room, they kick off their shoes and lie down on the bed, still dressed, and make out for a long time. They kiss, and touch only above the waist, and Raylan can't remember the last time he's done anything like this. 

They disrobe in bits and pieces as they go, eventually ending up shirtless, pants unzipped to relieve the pressure. When Raylan feels like he can't wait anymore, he breathes hot into Boyd's ear, saying, "What do you want to do, baby?"

Boyd smiles, heavy-lidded, and says, "This. Just want to feel you, Raylan. I'm not in a hurry."

Raylan groans and says, "I need something more, Boyd, this is making me crazy. You wanna... wanna stick it in me? You want to fuck me, darlin'?"

"Oh," Boyd whispers, "Really?" 

"Yeah," Raylan replies, sliding his hand down over Boyd's crotch, finally touching him, grasping at him through his shorts, damp with pre-come. "I want you to. Want to feel you inside me."

Raylan's never let anyone do that, never trusted anyone enough, never let his guard down like that. The one time Boyd asked him, months earlier, Raylan had told him, "Let's hold off." Boyd hadn't asked again, but Raylan's been thinking about it ever since. 

"You'll have to tell me what to do, Raylan," Boyd says with a heated smile.

"What, you didn't take a class?" Raylan says, slipping his hand under the fabric and running his thumb up Boyd's shaft. "They didn't offer Buttsex 101 at Syracuse when you were there?"

Boyd chuckles darkly and says, "Well, sure, but I never did the internship."

"Too bad, 'cause we're gonna skip right to the practical exam." Raylan takes his hands from Boyd and pulls his own pants off. "Get your face down there, boy. I know you know how to use your tongue, I seen you with Ava."

Boyd is panting now, maybe from lust, but probably nerves as well, and Raylan kisses him. "You don't have to do it perfect, Boyd. Just fuckin' do it."

Boyd takes a minute to finish undressing himself, and Raylan closes his eyes, waiting. Soft hair brushes against the inside of his thigh as Boyd pushes his legs back, and gasps when he feels his warm, wet tongue against his asshole. He's done this plenty of times, but could never imagine exactly what it might feel like. 

Boyd's tongue is going in circles, pushing in just a little from time to time, and it is maddening. Raylan is huffing out quick breaths, but when he reaches down to touch himself, Boyd's hand comes up to push it away.

"Ah, fuck, Boyd," he pants in frustration. Boyd presses his tongue in harder in response, and Raylan grunts with pleasure. His legs are quivering with tension, and he says, "Use your hand now, baby," he says, "Please."

Boyd makes him wait a full minute after asking, but eventually pulls his mouth away and kneels up, looking at Raylan with the filthiest gaze he's ever seen. He reaches over him to the bedside table and takes out the little bottle of lube, coats his fingers and slides one in, not taking his eyes from Raylan's face even for a second. 

This is a much stranger feeling than Boyd's tongue, and not as pleasant. He breathes in and lets it out, willing himself to relax. 

Boyd is talking, and it takes Raylan a minute to process it. "You'll get used to it," he's saying, smirking down at him. Raylan just nods and licks his lips as Boyd circles his finger, stretching him slowly, then adding another. It's starting to feel okay, and Boyd pushes his hand in further, searching, and trailing kisses up the inside of his thigh. 

Then he feels it, and it's like fireworks going off inside of him. He rubs against Boyd's leg with his foot, hard, and can't even find any words to tell him with. He reaches for himself again, and now Boyd lets him, pressing in with his fingers again and again.

"Stop!" Raylan manages. "Boyd, stop, you have to or you won't get your chance."

This time, Boyd listens right away, gently pulling his hand free. He positions himself, very hard now, and Raylan wonders if he'll even be able to get it all the way in before he comes. 

"I almost forgot there was something else I was supposed to do," Boyd laughs. "I coulda gone just like that. You're so hot, honey."

"Put it in, Boyd, and shut up," Raylan grits out. He's out of patience entirely, and if Boyd keeps telling him how fucking sexy he is, he's going to lose it.

Boyd pushes forward, slowly, which Raylan appreciates. However thorough Boyd had been, it still hurts a little. Boyd isn't exactly lacking in that department. He goes little by little, and when he's buried deep in him, he leans forward carefully. Raylan cranes up to meet his lips, they kiss, and then Boyd starts to move. 

He's hitting that same spot that he found with his fingers, over and over in this slow rhythm, and Raylan strokes himself to the same beat. They're staring at each other, and Raylan feels a bit of wonder that they're both able to hold off this long. 

Boyd's hand settles lightly over his as he pumps his cock, and lets out a shaky breath. "Are you close, baby?" he asks. 

Raylan nods vigorously. Boyd presses a smile into the inside of Raylan's knee and closes his eyes. "Tell me when," he says, and Raylan doesn't wait any time before replying, "Now."

Coming with Boyd inside of him is such a revelation, such an incredible feeling, and he thinks he wants to do it this way a lot of the time, now. He is not control of the sounds coming from his mouth, nor hardly even the words, and he tells Boyd that he loves him, as if the man doesn't know that perfectly well already. 

Boyd pulls out and lays himself out beside Raylan, sticky with sweat and wrung out. Raylan pulls him in and wraps his arms around him tight, still high from his orgasm. He's smiling real big at Boyd, and he says, "Now you were my first for a second time."

Boyd's eyes widen as he stares at him. "You never..."

Raylan shakes his head. "I told you, I didn't really date. I wasn't gonna let strangers do that to me."

"But you would do it to them."

Raylan shrugs and says, "That was their choice. I couldn't imagine doing it. Although, now that I finally tried it, maybe I can relate a little better." 

"I guess I did okay, then," Boyd says, grinning.

"You did perfect." Raylan kisses him, then gets up and walks toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna shower. You feel like joining me?"

They shower, then go back to bed and fall asleep easily. 

Raylan volunteers to go out for pastries in the morning, and when he comes back, Boyd and Ava are in the kitchen, laughing about something. Raylan pours himself a cup of coffee, then sits down with them. 

Ava leans toward him and says, "I was just telling Boyd about what that girl Andrea said to me the other night. I meant to tell you before, but then I got distracted." She gives him a cheeky sort of grin and takes a bite of her croissant before continuing. "Were you aware that there are people who write sexy stories about actual, real people? Some of whom are politicians?"

Raylan stares at her silently for a moment, trying to make sense of that sentence, then says, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"People - girls mostly, I guess - write sex stories about famous people. _There are sex stories on the Internet, starring Boyd and various other people._ Including you. And even me, I guess because of that article."

"What the fuck? Why? Why would anyone... Have you read them?" He looks at Boyd, who seems to be similarly nonplussed.

"I did get curious," she says. "Although I couldn't really bring myself to actually _read_ them. I just looked at the descriptions."

"And?" Raylan is not at all sure he wants to know, but he is sure he can't resist finding out. 

Ava starts to try to speak, then dissolves in a fit of giggles. She tries again, but eventually just shakes her head. She is blushing furiously, which is disconcerting, because she is generally pretty open and unembarrassed about sexual matters. This must be bad. 

Boyd gets his laptop and brings it to the table, opens it and pushes it towards her. "Show us," he tells her. She types in a web address and search terms, and hands it back to him. He looks at the screen, frowns, scrolls down and frowns more deeply. 

Raylan gets up and walks behind him to read over his shoulder. "You, me and Anderson Cooper," he says. "Well, that ain't so bad." This is too weird not to laugh about.

Boyd scowls and gestures at another one. "Me and Joe Biden. What the fuck is that about?"

Raylan can't help it, he starts laughing, the kind that doesn't want to stop. His eyes are welling up from it, and Ava catches it after a moment. She's come around to look at the website too, and they're gasping out one unlikely scenario after another.

"Holy shit," Ava says faintly through her giggles, "The two of you, me, and Glen Beck! I think I'm gonna pee in my pants!"

"I think that's part of the plot!" Raylan says, howling. 

Boyd gets up suddenly and walks into the den. Raylan and Ava work to get themselves under control - not looking at each other is key - and follow him in as soon as they can. She sits down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"This is actually bothering you, huh?" she asks. 

Boyd runs his hands through his hair and says, "It's just that I brought this kind of shit on myself, and I can't do a damn thing about it."

"You mean by coming out like you did?"

He shakes his head hard. "No. By being such a lying sack of shit in the first place."

Raylan walks back to the kitchen and fetches the laptop. He types something, scrolls a bit, then says, "Look here. There's a million stories about Barack Obama and Rahm Emanuel. It doesn't have anything to do with what you think it does. It's just that people are fascinated by you. You have an interesting story."

"And a hot boyfriend," Ava puts in. "Not to mention a sexy lady fuckbuddy."

Raylan glances at her, and she winks at him. She looks like she might have figured out whatever she needed to, and he smiles back at her. Sensitive feminist one, fascist pig zero, he thinks, and makes himself laugh again. 

Boyd doesn't look entirely convinced, so Raylan says, "If you don't snap out of it, I'm going to read aloud this dirty story about Rush Limbaugh and Nancy Pelosi in a BDSM scene. Guess who's the top."

Boyd looks up at him, clearly horrified, and says, "These people are out of their damn minds."

Raylan shrugs and closes the browser. "Come eat your danish, darlin'. Me and Ava should be on the road in a couple hours, and we all got something to attend to before we go."

Boyd looks at him blankly for a second, and then at Ava as understanding dawns in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks.

Ava answers by climbing into his lap and kissing him. "Maybe you could eat that danish after," she says, and he wraps his hands around her waist, standing up and carrying her towards the stairs.

"What you waiting for, son?" he says to Raylan. 

"Anderson Cooper," he replies, then follows after Boyd gives him the finger over his shoulder. 

They all spend some time in the shower after that, and Raylan makes a mental note to insist that Boyd puts one of these in, wherever he ends up living next. Maybe with three shower heads.


	8. Chapter 8: Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings, feelings, feelings, all over the place. And happy endings.

In the weeks and months following the election, Boyd begins to ready his house for sale. He can't actually put it on the market until his term is officially up in the Senate, but his time away from DC is spent mostly in Kentucky, these days.

The house in Cumberland that he's rented on more than one occasion is still for sale, so Boyd puts in a lowball offer that's accepted immediately. Raylan is more than happy to spend time there, supervising the contractors Boyd hires to make the place livable, replace the wiring, and do a complete remodel on the upstairs bathroom. 

Raylan knows a couple of these guys from around, and they mostly avoid his eyes and speak to him politely, as if he's a stranger. He's sure they have plenty to say when he's not around, especially when they're installing the new enormous shower. He could not possibly care less. 

It's early November, a chilly Saturday, and Raylan feels antsy. Boyd is on the sofa, jotting stuff down in a notebook, but Raylan can't seem to focus on anything. He nudges Boyd's sock-clad foot with his until he looks up. 

"You want to go over to Ava's, see what she's up to?" he asks, eyebrows raised hopefully.

Boyd gives him a sardonic look and says, "You mean, see if she wants to screw."

Raylan shrugs. "Whatever."

Grinning, Boyd says, "Sure, baby. We can do that. Should we call first?"

"Let's surprise her. I still got a jar of that apple pie we can bring with us."

Boyd mulls it over, then asks, "You don't think she'll be pissed? What if she's got a... a date or something?"

Raylan looks at him like he's crazy. "She ain't dating anyone. She'd have said. And anyway... even if she's pissed, she'll get over it. She can't stay mad at me."

Boyd shakes his head at him. "That's what you do all the time, ain't it? You just do what you feel like doing, shrug your damn shoulders and think, 'Well, they'll get over it. I'm Raylan fuckin' Givens, I'll just give 'em that goddamn-I'm-handsome grin, and they'll forgive me anything.' That is actually what goes through your mind."

Raylan gives him the very grin he probably has in mind, and moves closer, bracing himself on the arm of the sofa that Boyd is leaning against. "I never really thought it out in words like that, darlin'. It's more like a learned response." He leans into Boyd, and he can already feel him responding.

"Fuck you, Raylan," Boyd says, but softly, with affection. "That just ain't fair."

"Yeah, well," Raylan breathes, then brushes their lips together, trailing around to his jaw. They're both hard now, and Raylan slides a hand up the front of his shirt.

"Raylan, baby," Boyd says, pulling his head back, "if we keep this up, we might as well just stay here and call Ava tomorrow."

"We could go twice," Raylan says, his nose in Boyd's hair. "That way we'll last a good long time, maybe impress her a little bit, huh?"

Boyd groans, but says, "No, come on. If we're just gonna show up, she won't appreciate a midnight booty call."

"Why is that, do you think? I know I'd always appreciate it."

Boyd shrugs. "Women, Raylan. You think I got that shit figured out? But I know what I know, and so do you."

"Alright," Raylan says, pulling himself away reluctantly. "It's just I can't keep my hands off you, Boyd."

"I know the feeling." Boyd shakes himself and picks up his phone and his keys. "Grab that shine and let's go, if we're going. This was your idea, wasn't it?"

As soon as they pull up in front of her house, it's obvious things are not right. There are two cars there besides Ava's Duster, and Raylan frowns. 

"Shit, I recognize that Trans Am. That belongs to Sherry Reese."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

Raylan closes his eyes and groans. "Friend of Ava's, they were in the same class at school together. Unfortunately, I didn't know that until after I fucked her a few times. This was maybe five years ago, but I'm guessing she ain't my biggest fan."

"Jesus Christ, Raylan. Does everyone you ever screwed hate you?"

Raylan looks over at him with a rueful grin and says, "I sure hope not, honey."

Boyd rolls his eyes and says, "Well what do you want to do here? She's got company, so I'm thinking she won't be up for sex."

"Let's just go," Raylan says, just as an SUV pulls up beside them. There's a heavyset woman at the wheel, who Raylan vaguely knows. Recently he's seen her around with a baby in a stroller and a two year old hanging off her arm. In the passenger seat is a woman with long brown hair, who is staring straight at Boyd. 

"We can't very well just drive off now, Raylan," Boyd says. "We'll look like some kind of assholes."

Raylan knocks his fist lightly into his forehead and sighs. "Okay. I guess we'll go in and say hi." 

They get out of the car and Raylan nods towards the women as they stand, staring, by their vehicle. He remembers the heavier one's name now, it's Dawn, and he greets her by name. 

The woman is blushing, for some reason, and trying to hold down a smile like she just doesn't know what she's about. She says, "Well, hey, Raylan," and giggles like she fucking fourteen. She glances at her friend, who looks only a bit more sensible. 

"Evening, ladies," Boyd says, and they return the sentiment with mouths pressed tight against laughter. 

They hang back as the women knock and wait on the doorstep. Ava comes to open it, and then spies Raylan and Boyd on the porch steps. 

"What the hell are you boys doing here?" she asks. "No wait, I _know_ what you're doing here. You couldn't call first? I'm havin' a ladies night. We're gonna drink wine and get silly, and y'all don't need to see that."

Raylan leers at her and says, "Y'all gonna make out?"

"You're ridiculous," she says, laughing. "Well, since you two were so presumptuous as to show up unannounced, you can just come on in and say hello to my friends."

"Ava," Boyd puts in, "We really don't want to intrude on your evening. We should have called first." He cuts a hard look at Raylan.

Ava makes a dismissive sound and says, "Please, like you had no say in the matter, Boyd." She shakes her head. "Dumbasses," she says, with no small amount of affection. "Anyway, you two come in and say hi, then be on your way. You'll be the entertainment portion of the evening."

Reluctantly, they follow her in. Neither of them likes to refuse Ava, if they can help it, though Raylan feels close to doing so when he sees Sherry notice him. 

"Girls," Ava is saying, "My friends Raylan and Boyd just stopped by to say hey. They never think to call first. They know it's my baking day, so I'm pretty sure they're after some of my pie."

Raylan has no idea how she keeps a straight face through that line. Impressive, he thinks, and he says, "Speaking of pie." Ava and Boyd both turn to stare at him with somewhat widened eyes. "I brought some in exchange, honey." He pulls out the jar that's been sloshing around in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Maybe you ladies would enjoy something a little bit stronger than that box wine." He hands it to Ava with a wink.

"Why thank you, Raylan. Let me introduce you boys to my other friends." She holds her hand out to each of the women as she rattles off their names. "This here's Shannon, Dawn, Amanda, Mary, and... well I think Raylan already knows Sherry."

"I do," he says, "Nice to see you."

She's trying to sneer at him, but he's pretty sure she's more amused than anything else. She says to Boyd, "So what's your secret, Boyd Crowder? How'd you get him to stick around when he just slides offa everyone else like eggs on Teflon?"

Boyd's mouth is slightly open, and for a second Raylan thinks he's actually somehow speechless. He should have known better, though, because after a couple seconds' pause - during which everyone is silent and slightly shocked - Boyd says, "I couldn't begin to answer that question, Sherry, except to say I'm a lucky man." 

He reaches a hand up to hang it off Raylan's shoulder, and Raylan thinks it might be time to go. Ava apparently thinks so too, and she pulls then by the hands into the kitchen. She pulls a pecan pie off the shelf and hands it to Raylan. 

"Next time you boys want some of my pie," she says, with an indecent expression on her face, "call first." She leans over and gives Boyd a soft kiss on the mouth, pats Raylan on the stomach, and walks them into the hall.

"Lovey running into you ladies!" Boyd calls as they pass the living room. A few giggles and one shriek of laughter follows them out the door.

Raylan is sure at least one or two of them is peeking at them through the window, but he puts a hand on Boyd's back anyway, slipping it up under his short wool coat, as they walk to the car. Fuck Sherry Reese anyhow, he thinks. She wouldn't even suck his dick, even after he gave her what he remembers quite clearly as enthusiastic and very competent head. 

As they drives away, Boyd says, "You feel like a little drive, darlin'?"

Raylan looks at him gratefully. " _Yes,_ " he says, "Anywhere. I'm going a little stir-crazy, I think."

"Restless," Boyd murmurs.

"Not like that, baby," he quickly assures him. "I just feel like I'm waiting around for something. I hate that." 

He wants Boyd to finish his term and move for real, wants it yesterday. For awhile, the visits were fun, like little vacations, but now he feels like they can't move forward anymore until things are settled. He always feels a little torn about whether to spend as much of their time alone as possible, or to go see Ava, or even Johnny and Helen. He wants things to start seeming real, and normal again.

"It won't be too much longer now," Boyd says. "I get it. Though I am much better at waiting than you are, honey."

"How'd that work out for you," Raylan grumbles at him. Cheap shot, he knows, and he's glad Boyd chooses not to acknowledge it.

"There's this place out in Berea," Boyd says. "A cafe, supposed to be nice."

"Oh yeah?" Raylan gives him a look. "Berea, huh?"

"Mm," Boyd says, by way of confirmation. He pulls out his phone to look up the address. "They got live music on the weekends. Maybe you've been there?"

"You're hopin' to get a look at my banjo player? I'm sure he ain't around no more, Boyd. That was more than ten years ago."

"Baby, I just want to go to dinner and listen to some music. Looks like some kinda acoustic folk act tonight, anyway, not bluegrass."

"Alright, then," Raylan says agreeably. "I think I do know the place. They got this pork burger that's fuckin' delicious."

"You know, Raylan, one of these days that shit is gonna catch up with you and I'm gonna have a fat, old man on my hands."

Raylan grins evilly and replies, "Well, you shoulda come back sooner. You'd have had more time to reform me. I'm too old to change now."

"Bullshit," Boyd says, laughing. "You're no older than me."

"You ain't changed that much," Raylan says, looking straight ahead at the road. 

Over his burger, Raylan asks Boyd something he's been curious about for weeks.

"What you been scribbling in that notebook of yours, anyway?"

Boyd raises his eyebrows in surprise and says, "You mean to tell me you haven't snuck a peek?"

Raylan frowns. "Not one time. What do think of me, Boyd?"

Boyd shrugs. "I wouldn't have cared, baby. But I haven't told you yet because I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it. Still not sure."

"Well, what the hell is it?" Raylan grins at him, says, "The suspense is killin' me."

"I'd like to write a book. About- well, about a lot of things. About me, my career, the choices I've made, about my marriage - although I'll probably go light on the details there, so she don't get too pissed."

Raylan rolls his eyes here, but says nothing and nods encouragement. 

"Well, I'd want to write about you, Raylan. And Ava if she says it's okay, but only if. I just... I just want a chance to really explain myself, and really apologize, and say how I hope to make up for some of that. And maybe try to be of some encouragement to other people who fear they've left it too long, lied too often."

Raylan reaches across the table for his hand and squeezes it. "I'm sure you can do this, Boyd. I think it's a great idea."

"So it's okay if I talk about you in it? I know it's not your ultimate dream to have your personal business broadcast to the whole world."

"That is remarkably optimistic of you, darlin'," Raylan laughs. "You can say whatever you like. I'm sure it'll be flattering, since you are so head over fucking heels for me, right?"

“I’ll be sure to mention your humility and self-effacing sense of humor.” 

After they leave the restaurant, they end up driving around a bit in the hills, just talking. They both know that if they go home, they’ll just fuck and go to sleep, so they put it off a bit. 

A silence falls between them as they get further into nowhere, and Raylan thinks it feels electric, like the air is charged. He associates it with fighting, with anger, but there's none of that between them at the moment. 

"Boyd, can you find a place to pull over?" he asks, his voice quiet in the dark. 

"Okay," Boyd answers, not questioning. Maybe he can feel it too. He pulls onto the shoulder of the lonely road and looks over, waiting for Raylan to explain himself.

Raylan unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs into the back seat of Boyd's Lexus. Boyd looks at him for a moment, then does the same, settling himself over Raylan's lap and smiling down at him. 

"You want to make out like kids in the back seat of the car?" Boyd asks, amused.

"No," Raylan says, "I want to make out like grown ups." He starts to unbutton Boyd's shirt, kissing his chest as he goes, and Boyd closes his eyes, sighing. 

They get each other off easy and quick, and the air goes back to normal. Raylan feels an unaccountable sadness, not a deep ache, just a twinge. 

Boyd must see it, because he strokes his face and says, "What is it?"

Raylan doesn't know, exactly, but he thinks it's been laying in wait ever since they got turned away from Ava's place. Maybe even before that, when Boyd suggested she might have a man there, something that had never even occurred to Raylan before. Though it should have. 

None of this is something he wants to tell Boyd. He said earlier that he wasn't feeling restless for a woman, and that much was true. He feels like he could be satisfied with just Boyd for a long time. It's not a woman he wants. It's just Ava. He could never tell Boyd that. 

He wonders when he started feeling that way, and if it might not be for the best to start putting a little distance between them and her. It feels dangerous, and there's no way he's going to let anything or anyone come between him and Boyd, not after everything, not with the way he loves him - almost needs him. 

All he says to Boyd now is, "Nothing at all, darlin'. I'm ready to go home now, okay?"

Boyd tilts his head, and Raylan can tell he doesn't believe him, but he says, "Sure, Raylan. Let's go."

Boyd starts to get up, but Raylan grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down. "I love you," he says, before he kisses him hard.

Boyd looks almost concerned as he replies, "Yeah, I know that. I love you too."

Thanksgiving is at Ava's house. She invites Helen and Arlo, which Raylan thinks is a terrible idea. Arlo can't seem to be in the same room without either mocking, or viciously insulting him, depending on his mood at the time. 

Raylan has not brought Boyd around him, even though Boyd says he doesn't care. That's probably mostly true, but Raylan cares. He's taken shit from Arlo his whole life, and has learned to let it roll off, most of the time. How he'll react to hearing him give Boyd the same, he thinks will be a different story. 

He's also disturbed by the amount of time Helen's been spending with the old man. It's been helpful to Raylan, so he hasn't wanted to argue too much over it, but he can't understand it. 

Ava wants no part of their half-hearted offers to help with the cooking, but she does allow them to come early and sit at her kitchen table as she works, regaling her with stories about various politicians and making her groan with stupid jokes. 

The warm, calm family feeling of the day is shattered when Arlo arrives, glowering, and practically being dragged into the house by a grim-faced Helen. 

Ava greets him as if she's been waiting all day to see him, and Raylan wonders at her. Even Arlo seems somewhat shamed by her kindness, and gives her what might pass for a smile. As his eyes move from her face and come upon Raylan and Boyd at the table, his expression hardens into something ugly. 

Raylan gets up to say hello to Helen, kissing her on the cheek, then nods at Arlo. Boyd greets Helen as well, taking her hand and telling her what a pleasure it is to see her. Raylan watches him extend a hand to Arlo, his face friendly but serious, and say, "Mr. Givens, it has been quite a long time."

Arlo looks dumbfounded for a moment, as if he hasn't expected Boyd to speak to him at all. As if, perhaps, he hadn't been entirely sure until this moment that the events of the past year had really happened. He does not take Boyd's hand, but simply walks away, into the living room. Helen looks apologetically at Boyd, then follows Arlo out of the room. 

"Well, I'm certainly glad he was able to make it," Raylan says. "Just wouldn't be a holiday without Arlo insulting everyone."

"It's alright, Raylan," Boyd says. "Hell, my daddy wouldn't have even shown up at all unless he had a gun, ready to shoot you."

Raylan laughs humorlessly and says, "An excellent lesson in perspective, Boyd, thank you."

"Boys," Ava says, standing with a spoon in her hand, looking at them with a stern expression, "y'all need to listen to me now. This here's my house, and I won't abide fighting or discourtesy. You let me handle that cussed old bastard. You hear?"

"Yes, Miss Ava," Boyd says, a sparkle in his eye for her. "Raylan? You hear?"

"Oh, I hear," Raylan says, some heat in his voice. He walks over, sweeps her in close by the waist, and is giving her a rather dramatic kiss, dipping her backwards, when Helen walks back into the room. 

She gapes at them for a moment until they break apart, laughing, then frowns at Boyd, who is grinning at them.

"What's this, then?" she asks. "What I think it is?"

"Yes ma'am, I imagine so," Boyd says. Raylan gives her a slightly sheepish grin. 

Ava is blushing, and she turns back to the potatoes she'd been peeling. "Maybe you boys could make a run over to Walmart for some butter, you think? I coulda sworn I had enough, but it seems I'm running low. I think they're open for just another hour or so."

"You bet," Raylan says quickly and gratefully. He glances at Helen as they're leaving, and she shakes her head like she just doesn't know what to do with him.

They manage to get through most of dinner without conflict. Boyd talks a bit about the work they're doing on his house, and his plans to sell the Birmingham place. It seems - and this is news to Raylan - that he's received an unofficial offer from his ex-wife Theresa and her husband. 

"She always did love that house," Boyd says. "Although, Sutton may end up using it more, since he works in town.”

Raylan has some ideas about what Sutton might want to use the house for, and he exchanges glances with Ava, who looks away quickly, pressing her lips together against a laugh. Boyd clears his throat and takes a sip of his drink. 

Arlo makes a disgusted sound, as if he's taken just about as much as he can take, and can't hold back any longer. He throws down his napkin and snarls at Raylan, "I suppose you're gonna be moving in there."

Raylan takes a breath and says, "That's the plan. I'll still be by to make sure you got food and all. Helen will-"

Arlo's low, mean drawl cuts him off. "Ain't bad enough you gotta make me the laughingstock of Harlan with your faggoty bullshit. Now you're gonna move in there like some kinda live-in whore? Or what, like a housewife?" He laughs, harsh and mean, and Raylan feels like he could probably kill him right now if he had a gun in his hand. 

Helen's mouth is a hard line, and she starts to get up, but Ava says sharply, "Oh, Helen, you don't need to do that." Helen looks at her, then slowly sits back down. Ava looks directly at Arlo and says, "Mr. Givens, I will not tolerate that sort of language in my house. These boys are friends of mine, and if you can't be respectful of my friends then you ain't welcome in my home. I don't give a good goddamn if he's your son, you got no right."

Arlo can't seem to stop himself from responding, and he says, "And now, lookit, can't even defend himself, has to let a woman fight his battles, just like when he was a boy."

That's enough for Raylan, and he gets up, walks quickly around the table to Arlo. He ignores Ava's shout to stop, and grabs Arlo by the arm, pulling him up out of his chair. 

He doesn't really know what he's about to do, he's suddenly so angry, so full of all the rage he's had to push down and contain over the years of living with his father. So he doesn't feel relief when Boyd grabs him; he feels more anger, anger towards Boyd as well, anger for being held back from this. 

Boyd pulls him away, into the kitchen. He has one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair, and he's saying, "I know, Raylan. I know. But you gotta get it under wraps. Let it go now, baby. Let it go." He's pulling Raylan in close and holding him, but Raylan can't bring himself to loosen into his arms. Boyd just hangs on and waits it out, as long as it takes for Raylan to uncoil, and return the embrace.

"Fuck, Boyd," Raylan grits out, "I hate his fucking guts."

"I know. I hate him too, Raylan, for what he did to you and your mother. And because he's a fuckin' asshole. Say the word and I'll hire a nurse to take care of him, so you never have to go over there again."

Raylan deflates visibly at these words, and his head drops to Boyd's shoulder. "No. He's... goddamnit. He's blood. I'll do what's expected."

"Alright, honey," Boyd says, "but the offer stands."

Christmas is spent at Boyd's house - really Boyd and Raylan's at this point, as he spends most nights there, and has moved all of his things. He brings an overnight bag if he has to stay at Arlo's now. He doesn't think it's going to feel like he's really living there until Boyd is, full-time. Right now, Raylan sort of feels like he's house sitting.

Ava and Johnny come by, separately, but stay awhile. Johnny is still a little awkward around the two of them, but as he's not much of a talker under any circumstances, it's not especially noticeable. 

Ava seems distracted all day, and sometimes Raylan catches her with a small frown creasing her brow, which disappears when she notices someone looking. He sees Boyd watching her too. 

She'd given them their gift when she first arrived - a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle and two beautiful etched glasses. They both thanked her profusely, but Boyd says, "Only two glasses? We'll all have to take turns using the mismatched one while we finish off this bottle."

She'd smiled a little uncomfortably and said, "No, those are for you two. I will share the bottle, though." 

"Alright," Raylan said, kissing her cheek. "We're gonna give you yours later, okay?"

A few weeks earlier, they had driven to a small craft village a few towns over. They'd looked through almost all of the shops before finding something they could agree on as a gift for her. 

The crafter took apart vintage jewelry and reassembled the parts, making something new and beautiful from something old and worn. They found one with three strands of seed pearls, held together with tiny antique blue glass cornflowers. There were earrings to match. Raylan insisted on paying for half of the set and for once, Boyd didn't try to convince him otherwise. 

They give it to her after Johnny has left, and after they've gone to bed. They're lying together and talking quietly, when Boyd leans over and opens the drawer in the bedside table. He pulls out the small box and says, "Raylan and I picked this out together. It's the only one we both liked, so I think that must mean it's perfect."

She accepts the box with that little frown back on her face, and opens it up. Her face looks stricken when she sees inside, and she puts a hand to her lips. 

"Oh, boys," she says, and her voice cracks a little like she might cry, "this is so beautiful."

"Put it on for us, honey," Raylan tells her. "We thought it would match your eyes just perfect."

She pulls the necklace carefully from the box and unclasps it. Boyd reaches over to fasten it for her at the back of her neck, and pulls her hair back from her shoulders. Raylan can't help smiling, she looks so pretty. 

His smile disappears quickly, however, because Ava's face is crumpling into tears. Raylan looks up at Boyd, who appears just as clueless and helpless as Raylan feels. They both have their hands on her, at her back and on her shoulder. Raylan picks up her hand and holds it. 

"What is the matter, darlin'?" Boyd asks. "You been quiet all day, and now you're crying.”

She shakes her head and puts her hands up to her face.

Raylan says, “Ava? Honey, you got to tell us what’s going on, because we have no idea.”

“I’m so sorry, both of you. I didn’t want to do this now. And I didn’t want to do it like this. I know I’m scaring you, and I’m so sorry.” She swipes at her eyes, and Boyd hands her a tissue. “I can’t... this is... I need to stop seeing you boys this way.”

“Why?” Raylan blurts, before he can think of a better way to ask.

Ava looks at him, her eyes soft, and says, “Because, Raylan. What you and Boyd have, it’s something beautiful. And I want that for myself. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you two, and I’m always going to love this experience that we had. And I’m always going to love you both, and we’re always going to be friends. I promise that. I just- I don’t want to be an accessory to someone else’s relationship. I want my own. And if I stick around with you much longer, I’m afraid I won’t want that anymore. I won’t be able to... pull myself away.” 

She’s crying again, and Raylan has a lump in his own throat. He looks over at Boyd, but he can’t see his face because his forehead is leaning on Ava’s back. 

She takes off the necklace and puts it back in it’s box, then moves to get out of bed, and Boyd reaches up to hold both of her arms, pulling her back down. “Ava,” he says, “this is your decision, and we do respect that. Whatever you need to do, that’s what you’ll do.”

Raylan frowns at him, thinking that if he was going to pick a time to find his sensitive side, now is possibly the worst possible moment. He wants Boyd to tell her to stay, to use his words to convince her. 

He puts his hands on her face and says, “But you’ll stay tonight. If you got to call this off, start tomorrow.” He kisses her and pulls her down, then reaches over her to pull Boyd’s arm around her too. 

The next morning, she's up and dressed early, and Raylan wakes just as she's picking up the little box they'd given her. He sits up, and he feels Boyd stir beside him. 

"Ava -" he starts, but she holds up a hand.

"Please don't, Raylan. I realize this might be a little sad for you. Think about how it is for me, and don't make it any harder. Please."

"Ava, we don't mind if you see other people. We ain't trying to keep you like some kinda fucking concubine."

She stares at him like she thinks he's an asshole and an idiot, so obviously he's missed something.

"Raylan, this is a small town. You know how small it is. People are starting to talk already. How many guys around here do you think would be cool with this arrangement? How many would want to date me, knowing? And that ain't the worst part anyway. The longer we do this, the stronger my feelings get, but they got nowhere to go. I know you both care about me, you love me in your way, but it's still the two of you, plus me. I don't want to be 'extra.' I need my own thing."

Raylan doesn't disagree with anything she's said, but he still wants to argue. He opens his mouth to do that, but Boyd puts his hand on his arm. "Hush, Raylan," he says. "You know she's right." He gets up and pulls Ava into a hug. "We'll be here if you change your mind, honey. And we're gonna hold you to what you said about being friends. We love you in our bed, but it's more important that you stay in our lives."

She leaves, and Raylan whirls on Boyd. "Why did you just let her go without saying anything? Why didn't you try to change her mind?"

Boyd frowns and shakes his head. "What happened to 'give her credit for knowing what she wants'? Raylan, she didn't say a thing that ain't true. She deserves more than being a bed friend to you and me. She wants to fall in love. Maybe she wants to get married again, I don't know. I won't stand in the way of her being happy."

Raylan frowns stubbornly. "She's happy when she's with us," he says.

"Yeah, darlin'," Boyd replies, putting a hand on his shoulder, "but she ain't always with us."

Raylan nods, finally accepting, and walks forward to put his face in Boyd's neck, running his lips over the tendons and muscles, dragging his fingertips over his ribs. 

"You're really in the mood?" Boyd asks.

"Boyd, I'm sad about Ava. That don't mean I don't want you on your own. I never needed her here to want you. I never needed her here at all, I only- I liked having her here, but not because-" He's close to saying the thing he hadn't wanted to say, and he clamps his mouth shut against it. 

Boyd sighs. "Alright. Well, I want you too, but I'm not sure I can manage right this minute. I love you, Raylan. And I know you love me too, and it'll be fine. We'll just have to be sad for a little while, but we still have each other. Which I guess was kind of her point, when you think about it."

"Yeah."

Boyd moves in permanently after the first of the year. Raylan goes to Birmingham to help him pack, and he thinks a lot about the first time he was here. "It felt so unreal," he tells Boyd now. 

Boyd looks up from the box he's putting books in, and smiles softly at him. "For me too," he says. "I couldn't believe you were in my house. All the time I was living here, when I was married and after, anytime I'd start thinking about a man, no matter how my imagination conjured him in the first place, even if it was someone real, he'd always end up looking like you by the end."

Raylan raises an eyebrow and him and smirks. "By the end of what?"

Boyd just grins and goes back to packing. 

Ava comes to say hi on the day Boyd moves in, but she doesn't stay long. She tells them she needs a little time, some space, and she'll call them. 

When she does, a couple weeks later, she asks them to come over for dinner. She serves them pork chops, and they share a bottle of wine. She seems strangely nervous, though not in the subdued and distracted way she had at Christmas. She seems happy, though ill at ease.

Finally, she says, "I got something I want to tell you, and something I want to ask of you."

"Anything," Raylan says, and Boyd gives him a knowing little smile. Raylan gives him back a little frown.

"I- I met someone. He's real sweet. He ain't from Harlan, he grew up in Owensboro, but he lives in Jenkins now."

She's looking at them expectantly, and Raylan wonders if his smile looks as fake as it feels. Judging from the one on Boyd's face, he can only assume that it does. 

"That's wonderful, Ava. What's his name?"

Her happy expression falters a little as she looks at them, but she says, "It's Lee. Lee Crowley. He owns an auto body shop, does real well for himself. He's- I really like him."

Raylan nods, and he thinks maybe his smile becomes a little more genuine. He does want her to be happy, he really and truly does. "What did you want to ask us, honey? To meet him?"

She looks at him gratefully, and says, "Yes, would you? I told him all about you. I even told him... well, I sort of told him about the three of us."

"Sort of?" Boyd asks. "Meaning what?"

"Well I told him that I slept with you. I didn't get specific, but he kind of assumed it was a one-time deal, and when he was okay about that, I didn't want to push it any further. I don't mean to sound like I'm ashamed of anything, but-"

"Ava," Raylan is laughing, "I'm amazed you said anything at all. And he don't mind?"

She gives him a very big smile then and says, "I told you, I really like him. I hope you will too."

"He really wants to meet us?" Boyd asks skeptically. 

"You boys are my best friends. I don't give a shit if he wants to or not. But as it happens, he does. Or he says he does, anyway, which is just as good."

"Alright," Boyd says, "but don't expect we won't tell you if we don't think he's right."

They make dinner plans for the following weekend. As Boyd pulls into the parking lot of the little restaurant, Raylan mumbles, almost to himself, "She could do better than some redneck mechanic."

Boyd laughs at him and replies, "Maybe I could do better than some gun thug from Harlan. Maybe you could do better than some disgraced politician. You think that's what it's all about, baby?"

"I ain't a gun thug no more," Raylan grumbles. 

Boyd just laughs a little more, and they go in. Ava is sitting at a corner table with a young-looking man, shaggy-headed, with an open, almost innocent face. He's real cute, that's pretty much the first thing Raylan notices, and he thinks, oh, that's all. She's just got a crush, maybe it won't amount to much.

He looks up and sees them, obviously recognizing them, or at least Boyd, and his face opens up into a big, open smile. Ava turns and waves them over. Boyd says under his breath, "Well, shit." Raylan can't disagree.

Ava's boy stands to greet them and shake their hands. He's wearing jeans and a sort of Western-style shirt that makes his shoulders look good. Raylan wonders how he'd react if he were to lean over and kiss Ava hello, but he quickly reminds himself that he wants her to be happy. Really and truly. So he grits his teeth and sits down.

"Boys, this is Lee," Ava says unnecessarily. "Lee, honey, this here's Boyd and that's Raylan." Also unnecessary. 

"Well, I know that," he says, grinning. "I've heard a lot about you guys, as I'm sure you figured."

Raylan gives him a lopsided smile, and damn if the boy doesn't laugh. 

"Yeah, I heard _all_ that shit. That's okay, man, it's cool. I ain't one of those assholes who holds a woman's past experiences against her. I certainly can't hold it against you, she's an awesome lady." He brushes her arm, and she fucking blushes. 

"She is," Boyd puts in. "But I gotta say, it's not an attitude you very commonly find in these parts."

"Well," he says, shrugging, "I can't say I ain't able to find common ground with the people here. I grew up in eastern Kentucky, and I won't say I ain't at home here, but my upbringing was maybe a bit different from most. I was born on a commune. My mama was a hippie."

Raylan blinks at him, then snorts. "Is that so?" he asks.

"Yeah. But I don't remember it or nothing. She ran away with me when I was a baby, apparently being a hippie don't preclude a man from beating the shit out of his woman, so she left and eventually met my step-daddy, who's a decent guy. Still, though, she always taught me that passing judgement on people for how they live, and who they love, or anything else other than how they treat people, is something you don't do."

Raylan can't imagine where she found this kid, how she managed to pluck this one from the line of shitkickers waiting to get in her pants, and he just shakes his head in wonder.

Lee leans in towards Boyd a little and says, "But my mama did tell me that if I wanted to, I could give you a message from her. I ain't sure I want to, though, seeing as how you seem alright to me."

Boyd raises his brow, looking amused and a bit taken aback. "Well, obviously you want to, or you wouldn't've brought it up."

Lee grins and says, "She told me to tell you she's glad you lost the election."

Ava's looking at the boy with wide eyes, glancing over at Boyd a few times in the seconds that follow. Raylan sits back and sips at his drink. He doesn't want to like the boy, and it's annoying the shit out of him that he does. Finally, Boyd cracks a smile and sort of laughs. 

"Well," he says, "you can tell her I ain't too sorry about it either."

Raylan has several drinks over dinner, and he catches Boyd watching him at one point, so he says, "You're driving home, alright?" Boyd rolls his eyes and nods. 

Lee wants to talk to Raylan about what it's like living in a small place and thinking differently from almost everyone else. Raylan feels like he has a lot to offer on that topic, though he knows his own beliefs had a different sort of origin. It's still interesting, though, and the more he drinks, the easier it is to feel easy talking to him about it. 

As they're leaving, Lee says he's going to pull the car around, and Ava is standing with Raylan and Boyd, waiting. 

"You liked him, right?" Ava asks, almost nervously. "I mean, you must have, he's a really good-"

"Ava," Boyd cuts in, "Of course we did. You picked him."

She shrugs. "I picked Bowman, too."

Raylan looks at her and says, "Honey, you didn't pick Bowman. You were sixteen, he picked you. This is different."

She grasps his arm through his jacket and squeezes it. "Thanks, Raylan. I think maybe I needed to hear that."

They drive home and both make an effort to speak positively, to say how much they like Lee, how they think Ava could be happy with him. 

"Boyd..." 

"Yes?"

"I'm happy for her, I really am," Raylan says, to himself as much as to Boyd."

"Raylan, I understand why you keep saying that, and I truly believe you want very badly to mean it, in the spirit in which you offer it. And I know, you are accustomed to hiding things about yourself, from others at least, when you're unable to hide them from yourself. I myself am not a stranger to this way of life, as you know. But please, baby, for once, will you just fucking be honest?"

"I hate him, Boyd," Raylan blurts. "I mean, I don't. I don't. But I'd like to, and I can't, and I think she's gonna stay with him and that's what I hate. I hate that so much."

"Oh, thank God," Boyd says, letting out a breath. "Me too, darlin'. So much. She should be with us."

Raylan looks over, frowning deeply. "I'm pretty sure she's falling in love with him, Boyd. I mean, shit, I can't blame her. I was half in love with the boy myself after knowing him all of twenty minutes. He's perfect for her."

"She ain't in love with him yet," Boyd says, like he's sure. "She's giving us our last shot, Raylan. That's what this was."

"Boyd, you were the one who said - and I agreed with you - that she deserves a relationship of her own. It ain't fair for us to get in the way of her finding someone."

"I did say that. But... I've been thinking, Raylan. Remember on Christmas, after we gave her the jewelry? After she put it on?"

"Of course I remember, Boyd, that's when she said she was going to stop being with us."

"Yeah," Boyd says, glancing over, "well, she cried, said she hadn't wanted to do it then. But she had to, and why do you suppose it had to happen at that moment?"

"You think..." Raylan pauses, thinking about it hard. "You think we scared her? Like she thought we were getting too serious or something?"

"I'm thinking she was more worried about how she was feeling. Maybe she just thought we were being insensitive assholes, which we were. Jesus Christ. How did I not think about that? You don't buy a woman jewelry like that if it don't mean anything."

"It did mean something."

"Yeah, but not what it's supposed to mean. That's the kind of thing a man buys for a woman he wants to keep."

"It wasn't a fucking diamond ring, Boyd." Raylan is frowning at him, not quite getting it. "And we did want to keep her, didn't we?"

"Raylan, tell me something. How do you feel about Ava, really?"

Raylan's mouth snaps shut. He looks at Boyd, sure the man can see guilt in his eyes. "I care about her," he finally answers. "Just like you do."

"Is it just like me? Because, baby, I'm in love with her. And you must know that don't change how I feel about you, if you feel the same way."

Raylan looks out the windshield for a few minutes, trying to process what Boyd had said, and how he feels about it. He'd been thinking all this time that Boyd hadn't felt as strongly, or that he'd be hurt by Raylan's feelings for her. And, as stupid as he knows it is, the fact that Boyd feels the same way, scares him a little.

Boyd reaches out and touches his arm. "Am I right, Raylan? Do you feel that way?"

"Yes," Raylan husks out quietly.

"And do you love me any less than before?"

" _No._ Please, Boyd, no. Don't ever think that."

"I wouldn't," Boyd says, quietly and simply.

Raylan nods, then goes quiet again for awhile. As Boyd pulls into their driveway, Raylan asks, "What can we do? What's the solution here?"

"She's with us. For real, this time, not as a fuckbuddy or a... a third. Not separate from us. Equal."

"You really think that could work?"

Boyd shrugs. "I honestly don't know, Raylan."

"And what if we try it and it doesn't?"

Boyd laughs and says, "Then it'll be the same as every other relationship I ever had, before you, and you before me."

"But what if it fails and takes us with it?" 

"Raylan, I don't know. I can't know. I _think_ , we're going into this together, and we'd come out of it together. But you know I can't promise that. I can't even promise you and I would still be together in five years anyway. I _think_ we would, but shit happens even when you love someone as much as I love you."

Boyd gets out of the car, and Raylan follows him into the house. He lays his keys down on the table in the hall and turns to kiss him. "You want to fuck before we call her?" he asks. 

Raylan huffs a laugh and says, "Then what if she says yes and comes right over? She'd be pissed."

"I always knew you were smarter than you looked, baby," Boyd says, pulling out his phone. 

They go to sit on the couch, and Raylan thinks it's been quite awhile since he's felt so nervous. He thinks of something, and he nudges Boyd on the leg. "Hey," he says, a slightly mocking grin on his face. "You gonna tell her you have _feelings_ for her?"

Boyd smirks back at him and says, "If I do, I guarantee she won't ask me, 'what kind'."

Raylan grins, his heart beating fast, and Boyd holds the phone out to him. "You do it," he says.

"What? Why me?"

"Because," Boyd says. "She can't stay mad at you. You said."

Raylan gives him a wry look. "Coward."

"I think that's been established. Now call."

Raylan takes the phone, glaring at him a little as his stomach churns. He clicks on her number and puts it to his ear. He almost hangs up when she answers, but he closes his eyes and just starts talking. 

"Ava," he says, maybe a little too loud. "Boyd and I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh? What's that, Raylan?"

"Your boyfriend. We, uh. We liked him a lot, and, uh..."

Ava laughs, a light, tinkling sound. "He ain't into guys, if you're wonderin'. I know he's cute as hell, but he just ain't down with it."

"No, no, darlin', that ain't it. We..."

Boyd grabs the phone from his hand, apparently unable to listen to Raylan fumble around any longer. He should have fucking known, in Raylan's opinion. 

"What Raylan is trying to say is that while we think he's a fine person, we are both of the strong opinion that you should dump his ass."

"What in the world are you talking about, Boyd Crowder? Have the two of you lost your damn minds?" Boyd is holding the phone slightly away from his ear, and Raylan can hear every word she says. She doesn't sound too happy.

"Ava, Raylan and I... we want you with us. We want you only with us, we don't want you to date anyone else."

"Are you freakin' kidding me? Of all the selfish goddamn things. You want me to break up with my boyfriend, who wants to commit to me, so I can hang around waiting for the two of you to get in the mood for a little pussy and call me up? You got some damn nerve, let me-"

Raylan takes the phone back. "Ava," he says, "that's just it. We don't want it to be like that anymore. We want you to be _with_ us. All the time. Or, whenever you want. You don't have to move in unless you want to. We just want you to be our girlfriend. Because- because we love you. We're in love with you. It's better with you here. With all of us together."

She's quiet for a bit, but Raylan thinks she might be crying. When she speaks, he knows she was. "Raylan, I'm still not clear on what all this means."

"Honey, we can all talk it out together. We'll get it figured out. We can make it however we all decide it should be."

"I need some time to think. Goddamnit, why did you boys have to wait until I met someone good?"

"We didn't think of it," Raylan says sheepishly. "Plus, we're idiots, honey, you know that."

She laughs, and it turns into a sort of groan, then she says she has to go. She tells him they shouldn't call, because she needs to work it out in her head. 

They expect to wait a few days, or even weeks. They go to bed and fuck, and Raylan is surprised at how good it is, how not-sad he feels, now that everything is in the open. He realizes he should have learned this lesson already. He knows he'll be sad if Ava says no, they both will, but it really will be fine, because he didn't hold anything back this time. They didn't. 

When the doorbell rings a couple hours later, just as they're falling asleep, his first confused thought is that it's Helen, telling him something happened to Arlo. But of course she would have just called. 

They roll out of bed and pull on sleep pants and tshirts. Boyd runs down the stairs, and Raylan waits in the upstairs hall, looking down. When the door opens and it's Ava standing there, he sits on the top step. 

She reaches out for Boyd and he pulls her inside, lifting her off the ground with his hug. She looks up, over Boyd's shoulder, and smiles at Raylan. He can see from all the way up there that her eyes are red and puffy, but they're dry now. 

Boyd puts her down and she heads up the stairs to Raylan. He hugs her a little more gently than Boyd, but kisses her soundly on the lips. "You tired, honey?" he asks her, looking into her eyes.

"I'm real tired, Raylan. And you both look like I just woke you up."

Boyd comes up behind her and says, "You surely did. But we don't mind a bit. Let's go to bed now, and we can talk in the morning."

~*~

It's almost seven on a July evening as Boyd drives the moving truck towards Ava's house, and the day's humidity is beginning to drift away. The sun is setting, the air is still, and the sound of cicadas comes in through the open windows. It's Raylan's favorite time of day. Everything is beautiful. 

"You look happy, Raylan," Boyd says, and it startles him even though he's speaking quietly.

Raylan looks over at him, his peaceful expression spreading into a smile. Boyd is here, really here with him, they're going to pick up Ava, and it all feels like a dream after living so long in hopelessness. He feels almost high. "I am," he says simply. 

Boyd looks back at the road with a silly grin of his own. "It doesn't make much sense, does it? When you really think about it. You and me. Ava and us. It's all fucking crazy, really."

"I try not to think too hard on it, Boyd. Love don't make sense, anytime. It's just... I wasn't happy. And it wasn't- wasn't that I was missing you. Not after awhile, anyway. It was what I let myself turn into. I thought I was fucked, broken. Beyond repair. And when I chanced to think on it, I thought you were too. I thought maybe we did that to each other."

"You don't think that anymore, though." Boyd is frowning, thinking. His eyes are fixed straight ahead.

"No," Raylan says. "Little worse for the wear, maybe, but whole, the both of us. Ava too. We're all okay."

"I'm real happy too, Raylan. I'm so glad I finally came home."

Raylan just smiles and leans his head back, closing his eyes and smelling the summer air. 

They pull up to Ava's house to find her sitting out on the front steps like something out of a painting. She walks towards them as they climb down from the truck, and holds her arms out for both of them. When they walk into them, folding her into themselves, Raylan feels like he's the one who's come home.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a long time, and I finally feel safe about being able to finish it. I'm hoping to post a chapter every week.


End file.
